


Mike Ross, Missing Person

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drug Addiction, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-10-15 01:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17519516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Mike and Rachel left for Seattle months ago. A chance encounter on a sidewalk in Manhattan reveals to Harvey that things have not gone well for them. Mike is in trouble again, and once again it's up to Harvey to help him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Manhattan, Present Day**

 

As mirages went, she wouldn’t have been Harvey’s first choice, but if you’re dying of thirst in the desert, you take what you can get.

When he caught a glimpse of her through the lunchtime throng in front of the federal courthouse, he told himself it couldn’t be Rachel.

From behind, it looked like her. Long, dark hair, stirring slightly from her swift pace, fell down the back of her perfectly tailored grey wool coat. Stiletto heels lent an elegant dip and sway to her hips as her shapely legs propelled her.

She was real enough, he admitted, but could have been any one of the thousands of impeccable young women who worked in the law firms and investment banks in midtown Manhattan. He couldn’t have articulated what, specifically, singled her out as Rachel Zane – or Zane-Ross, he corrected himself – but even after ten months he recognized the shape of her head, the angle of her shoulders, and the grip of her slim hand on the stylish briefcase.

Lengthening his strides, he hurried after her, almost breaking into a run. If Rachel was in New York, Mike must be here too. She’d lead Harvey to him.

The light changed to red, and he caught up with her at the next intersection, latching onto her arm, careful not to use too much force.

“Rachel?” He half-expected the face that turned to him to be that of a startled and affronted stranger. But it was her.

Rachel’s expression went blank for an infinitesimally brief moment, then immediately switched to a polite sort of wariness. “Harvey.” She stood utterly still, but he could sense her coiled tension, as if she waited only for the light to change so she could dash away and lose herself in the crowd once more.

Harvey’s brows lowered in confusion, but he managed a smile. “It’s good to see you. What are you doing here? Where’s Mike?”

At this last question, her expression grew noticeably cooler. “I have no idea.”

“Well, is he here in New York with you?”

“As far as I know, he’s still in Seattle. And he hasn’t been with me since – ” She broke off, seemingly unable to complete the sentence, pain flashing in her eyes.

“Since what?”

Her features tightened, giving them a harder appearance than he’d ever seen on her. He intuited that something bad was about to come out of her mouth, but still was not prepared when she said, “Since I discovered him naked in our bed with another guy, preparing to shoot up. I assume he fucked him, too, or was fucked by him, but I didn’t stick around to find out.”

“You – ” Shock froze Harvey’s vocal cords for a few seconds. “You’re lying.” He didn’t really believe his own words, but the instinctive denial burst out of him before he could stop it.

The light changed, and Rachel shook free and started walking again, thin-lipped and rigid with anger. “Fuck you, Harvey,” she hissed.

When they reached the other side of the intersection, Harvey grabbed her arm again and hauled her around to face him. “You can’t tell me something like that and then just walk away. What the hell happened in Seattle?”

“Seattle,” she gritted, pronouncing the name much as one would speak the word _Ebola_ or _Hitler_. “I wish we’d never taken that job. I wish I’d never heard of that fucking city. It ruined us. Ruined Mike.”

“How? What happened?” he repeated.

Her chest heaved several times as she sought to regain control of her emotions. Finally, she jerked her head toward a nearby coffee shop. “Let’s go sit down. You can buy me a cappuccino while I fill you in on the whole shitshow.”

 

**Seattle, Ten Months Earlier**

 

“My God,” said Rachel, half-laughing as she pressed her shoulder to Mike’s to lean past him and stare out the plane’s window, “it’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

Mike shook his head, smiling indulgently. “Everything’s small compared to New York. I don’t mind a smaller pond, do you? We’re going to do great here, I can feel it. We’ll really make a name for ourselves.”

She settled back into her seat and rested a head on his shoulder. “A name? I thought you were all about doing good for other people.”

“That too.” His shoulder moved up and down as he sighed. “It’s just … For five years, I felt like I had a target on my back. I couldn’t really perform like I knew I could, couldn’t really cut loose. I felt like worry was strangling me. I’d go for a few days without thinking about all the laws I was breaking, and then someone would give me a look, or ask me a searching question, and all the worries came back.”

“That’s done with, though. The worst happened, and you survived. Now you’re an attorney. You were on the verge of making senior partner. Everyone knows that.”

“Except, no one in that city will ever forget how I got there. Every single time I’d go up against another lawyer, they’d use my past against me. I’d always be _that guy,_ the cheater, the one who broke the law.”

“You don’t know that.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not. Anyway, you’re right about the other part. I do want to help people, and not have to put up a fight every time I get a new case that means something to me. This is going to be good, here. I can feel it.”

The plane began its descent. Mike held Rachel’s hand as they waited for their new life to begin.

If they’d known what was coming, they might have folded into the crash position instead, with their faces to their knees and their arms flung protectively over their heads.

 

******

 

Their new boss, Andy Forsyth, had rented them a penthouse apartment on First Hill, an easy walk to the office through Freeway Park. The sweeping views of the city and Elliott Bay were reminiscent of Harvey’s condo back in Manhattan. The place had already been furnished. It was comfortable, stylish, but a bit too similar to the impersonal blandness of a hotel. They were on the lease for six months, and had the option to renew, redecorate, move, whatever they chose.

In their first days and weeks in Seattle, they had little time to think about any of that. Forsyth already had cases waiting for them, and they were thrown into the maelstrom the moment they walked into the office that first Monday morning. Mike was in his element, that much was clear, finally able to feel like he was doing good in the world, unfettered by office politics and the bottom line.

Rachel enjoyed the work, too, although not as whole-heartedly as Mike.  She missed home, and her family. Compared to New York, Seattle seemed like a backwater. Those first few months, though, they thrived, energized by the new environment and the challenges that cropped up daily.

Sometime around the end of their second month in Seattle, Rachel told Harvey, things began to sour. First, Forsyth began to veto more and more of the cases Mike brought him. They were too local, not splashy enough, not likely to garner national attention. He was right. Rachel could see that, but couldn’t get Mike to agree. Fighting for the building janitor’s overtime pay, or helping his favorite barista stave off eviction did not fit with the mission statement of the firm, nor did that sort of thing fill their coffers.

The yelling matches leaking from behind Forsyth’s closed office door became more and more common. Mike’s growing discontent affected their home life. It didn’t happen right away, but the groundwork was laid for the rift which would soon open up between them.

During month three, Mike went on a bike ride in the rain through the hilly city and ended up in the emergency room with a broken wrist, severely bruised thigh, and two cracked ribs. He was patched up and sent home with pain meds and instructions to take it easy for a few days.

 

**Manhattan, Present Day**

 

“Opioids?” guessed Harvey. He’d heard this song and dance enough times in the last few years to know how the story went.

Rachel smiled sourly and pointed her well-manicured finger at him, indicating that he’d got it on the first guess. “He couldn’t take any time off, so he kept himself medicated in order to keep functioning. By the time either of us realized he’d developed an addiction, he was already in too deep. We fought constantly about it. I knew he was taking more than the doctor prescribed, but he never admitted who his dealer was.”

“When did he switch to heroin?”

“I didn’t realize he had, until that day."

“And when did he start cheating on you?”

“Same answer.” She regarded him bleakly. “Ask me when I knew he had sex with men.” He didn’t ask, but she said, “Same answer again.” A bitter laugh. “It was quite the revelatory moment.”

“I’m sure. Did you try to get help for him?”

Her expression closed off, went marble-hard. “I packed my bags and got the hell out of there.”

“Leaving him on his own?”

“Well, he wasn’t exactly on his own, was he?”

Harvey wrestled down his rising anger and panic. “Did it not occur to you that he needed you?”

“Fuck that. He cheated on me.”

“I seem to recall a time when Mike was sleeping on my couch because you cheated on him. He forgave you.”

“It was one kiss with Logan. This was different.”

Yes, it was different. She’d once had feelings for Logan Sanders, which made it far worse, in Harvey’s mind. Of course, that assumed that Mike had no feelings for the man in his bed, but Harvey didn’t want to think about that.

In any case, arguing with Rachel wasn’t going to get him anywhere, so he switched gears. “How long ago did this … revelatory moment occur?”

“Three months.”

Mike had been alone in Seattle for three months, shooting up, sleeping with another addict. Addicts, plural? Anything could have happened to him in that length of time.

“Have you spoken to him?” he asked.

Rachel looked uncomfortable at the question. “No, but ... ”

“But, what?”

“Andy Forsyth got in touch with me about a month ago to see if I knew where Mike was.”

“Did you?”

Again, that look of faint discomfort. Or was it guilt? “I figured he’d still be in the apartment, still working his cases. Turned out, he hadn’t been to work for over two weeks. A few days after I talked to him, Forsyth changed the locks on the apartment.” She shrugged. “At this point, Mike could be anywhere. The way he was going through money – to get high, I now realize – I doubt if he’s got any left by now.”

Disbelief left Harvey speechless for several seconds. His first instinct was to rage at Rachel, to cut her incisively with harsh, accusatory words, to shame her and wipe that cold, uncaring look from her face. The hell of it was, he could kind of see her side. He’d known addicts – and drunks – and understood, in theory, the whole schtick about not being an enabler, and letting the addict find their rock bottom. This was Mike, though, a brilliant man, but one who, when in trouble, had been known to make monumentally poor choices.

Rachel was checking her phone. “That’s all I know. He’s not my problem anymore, and I have an appointment for which I’m already late.”

“Where are you working?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m at the U.S. Attorney’s office.”

More disbelief. “With that bitch who put Mike in prison?”

“Gibbs isn’t so bad once you get to know her. I’m mostly working with your old buddy Sean Cahill.”

He forced himself to speak in a civil tone. “Good for you. I’m sure you’ll do well. Just …"

“Just what?”

“If you hear from Mike, will you let me know?”

“I will, although you’re more likely to hear from him first.”

“Why do you say that?” He asked the question instinctively. At one time, he might have needed an answer. Now, he knew the truth, which he’d finally been forced to acknowledge when he watched Mike marry Rachel and walk out of his life.

Even before that, he and Mike had always shared a bond that circumvented Rachel. If that hadn’t been clear before Mike went to prison, her behavior then had confirmed it. When in trouble, Mike had always turned to Harvey, and Harvey had told himself it was simple loyalty. In the months since Mike had left, he’d finally admitted to himself that mere loyalty did not begin to describe – or explain – what connected them.

Maybe Rachel had figured that out sooner than he had. Now, she shook her head, wearing a look of pure scorn. “If you can’t answer that question for yourself, I don’t know what to tell you. If he does get in touch with you, I’d appreciate it if you could let him know that I have divorce papers drawn up and waiting for him to sign.”

She left him sitting at the table, staring after her as she clicked out the door and down the sidewalk. Her last words shouldn’t have filled with such a surge of elation and triumph, but they did. This heady wave receded almost quickly as it had come, because Mike was still missing, and Harvey didn’t know how to find him.

 

**Seattle, Present Day**

The foot ungently prodding Mike’s hip brought him slowly awake. He kept his eyes shut, hoping Seth would get the hint and leave him alone. When the prod turned into a sharp kick, Mike groaned and sat up, scraping hair out of his eyes, getting his bearings. He’d passed out on the hardwood floor in the living room of Seth’s shitty apartment. Every muscle in his body ached.

“The fuck do you want?” he rasped, fighting down nausea.

“You still owe me your mouth for the fix.”

That had been last night, too many hours ago. Mike nearly groaned again. Last night, he’d swore to himself this would be the last time, that he’d get clean, go talk to Forsyth, get his job back, get Rachel back. All it took was the renewed itch of want to flush all those good intentions right back down the toilet that his life had become.

“Give me another one, and you can have my ass instead.” At Seth’s skeptical look, he thought quickly and added, “Bareback,” knowing that Seth would reject that idea.

“Oh, fuck no. You? I mean, I’ll take your ass, but not without protection. Do I look suicidal to you?” He loomed over Mike, an aggressively expectant expression on his narrow face. “Well?”

Mike let out a cynical bark of laughter. “Fix first, then fuck. You know how it goes.”

Seth didn’t look happy, but nodded his agreement. “Fine, but after I’m done with you, you’re out of here. Find someone else to hustle.” He disappeared into his bedroom and returned with a twist of plastic containing a sticky black lump, and the leather pouch Mike knew held his rig.

Saliva flooded Mike’s mouth at the sight of the black tar heroin. At the same time, shame flooded his veins. How the hell had he come to this? He gave his head a rough shake. No, he wouldn’t think about that. Right now, he felt too sick and shaky. He could evaluate his life once he was feeling better.

He watched intently as Seth prepared his fix, using a bent, blackened spoon to heat the tar, and then drawing the resulting liquid into the syringe Mike provided. Mike was ready to go with a length of rubber tubing cinched around his arm when Seth handed him the hypo. He plunged the needle into his vein, depressed the plunger and let his breath out in a slow hiss as the drug hit his bloodstream, his limbs went lax, and everything else faded into inconsequence.

It was left to Seth to pluck the needle from his arm. Caught in a rush of delicious euphoria, Mike allowed himself to be positioned over the back of the couch. It required no special effort to drift in languor as Seth yanked his jeans down, entered him roughly and pounded away for far too long, selfish as always. Before he was done, the initial, heady rush of the drug had receded. Mike heard himself grunting, not so much from the pain as from a muted disgust with himself.

Finishing with Mike, Seth stepped into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he came back, Mike was still bent over the couch, jeans pooled at his feet, dreamily wishing he could shrink into a small, dense dot, and then blink out of existence.

Seth tossed Mike’s t-shirt at him. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “Get out. That was the deal.”

Mike unbent, his back complaining, and stood up, one hand on the couch for support. “Will I see you at _Galahad_ tonight?”

“Like I said, hustle someone else next time.” Seth pointed back and forth between them. “This is not happening again.”

Inside, Mike cringed at the acid contempt in Seth’s voice which made it crystal clear how disgusting Mike was – as if he needed anyone else to tell him that. He dressed as fast as he could, and was out the door without speaking another word.

 

******

 

Mike would have loved to find somewhere to lie down and enjoy the high, but as always these days he had to think a few steps ahead. He was down to his last three dollars. He’d sold everything he’d been able to take with him from the apartment. With Seth’s rejection, he was out of friends, fuck buddies, and a place to crash. That left only one last, distasteful option. Might as well get that out of the way, while his senses were still dulled enough from his latest fix.

Freeway Park was the closest location for what he needed. First, he stopped in the men’s room at McDonald’s to clean up as best he could and finger comb his too-long hair into some sort of order. Eying himself critically in the mirror, touching his scruffy beard, he decided that if he wasn’t the freshest piece of meat on the market, he wasn’t the worst thing out there. Plus, it was nearly noon, and businessmen on their lunch hour could be counted on not to be too picky.

He headed for Freeway Park, determinedly refusing to think about all the mornings he had strolled through here on the way to work, never imagining the trade that went on just off the path, practically out in the open. He stationed himself outside the men’s restroom, sitting on a park bench with his knees splayed open, doing his best to look the part. A pair of men entered the restroom and were inside for perhaps ten minutes. Not even that long. They exited separately and headed in opposite directions.

A man in a suit and tie approached, zeroing in in Mike, who sat up straighter and smiled at him, striving for seductive. The man sat next to him on the bench, too close for just a casual encounter. He wasn’t bad looking. In fact, he bore more than a passing resemblance to – _nope, do not think about him._

“You busy?” he asked Mike.

Having no time for subtleties, Mike said, “Fifty buck and I’ll blow you. Two hundred gets you anal, if you use a condom.”

“One-fifty, and no condom.”

Mike actually considered it for a few seconds, and then broke out in a light sweat as he realized what a terrible idea that was. “One twenty-five. Condom is non-negotiable.”

“You got yourself a deal.” The man plucked a small wad of bills out of his wallet and handed them to Mike.

When Mike had the money in his hand, the stranger showed him his SPD shield, pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and informed him he was under arrest for solicitation.

Two other cops appeared from the behind the restrooms and stood by while Mike was read his rights and led away with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Fear churned inside him, and disgust at himself for his own stupidity. Strangely, though, he also felt relief. After all these months, he could finally stop falling. The System had charge of him now.

 

**Manhattan**

Harvey almost didn’t take the call. He was rushing through last minute preparations for a deposition scheduled to start in less than five minutes. His cell phone vibrated on the desk, displaying an unfamiliar area code and number. After three rings, acting on some instinct he couldn’t have explained, he reached over and snatched it up. A recording sounded in his ear, and he nearly hung up. Then the words registered.

“Will you accept a collect call from the King County Correctional Facility?”

_King County?_

He was still confused, but he was also a lawyer, and if one of his clients, friends or family members was in a jam, he needed to take the call.

“Yes,” he said, and listened to a series of clicks and tones as the call was put through.

Static and silence.

“Yes?” he repeated, growing impatient.

“Harvey?”

The connection was poor, and the voice on the other end of the line faint, but Harvey would have recognized it anywhere, anytime.

_Mike._

Relief poured through him. It had been nearly two months since he’d run into Rachel, and none of his efforts to locate Mike had borne fruit. A moment later it registered where Mike was calling from. _King County Correctional Facility._ He was in jail.

Harvey realized he hadn’t yet spoken when Mike’s voice whispered over the line again. “Harvey? Are you there? Please don’t hang up. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Mike. I’m here. Where are you?”

A static-filled pause. “Didn’t you … jail. I’m in jail.”

“Where? Which jail?”

“Seattle. I need to get out of here. Can you help me?”

From the corner of his eye, Harvey spotted Alex at his office door, looking pointedly at his watch. Harvey held up one finger, signaling that he should wait.

“What are the charges?”

The silence that followed lasted so long that Harvey was afraid the call had dropped. Finally, “Solicitation,” said Mike in a small voice.

Not sure he’d heard correctly, Harvey clutched the phone tighter, scowling. “I don’t understand. They’re accusing you of picking up a prostitute?”

“No.”

“Then what – ” He broke off as comprehension dawned. He didn’t want to believe it.

“It was me. I took money in exchange for a sex act. Except the guy was a cop.”

Forcing himself to ignore his own shock, Harvey spoke briskly, all business now. “Is this your first offence of this sort?”

“Yes.”

“Any drugs involved?”

“No.”

“So, no possession charges. That’s good. They might let you off with a fine. When’s the arraignment?”

“Not until Monday.”

It was Friday afternoon now.

“Okay. Don’t worry. I’m booking a flight out there. We should be able to talk before the hearing. New York has reciprocity with Washington State, but as I’m sure you’re aware from your own experience, getting admitted to the bar there is a process that takes more time than we have. I’ll find local representation for the arraignment. Anyone you can recommend?”

“No. Wait, yes, but she works for Forsyth. Um. Never mind, that’s probably not a good idea.”

“What about Forsyth himself?”

“Ah. Definitely not. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“No worries. I’ll dig someone up.”

“Okay, but I’ll still see you when you get here?”

“Yes. Are you going to be okay until then?”

A weak laugh. “Me? Not my first rodeo. I’m a hardened con, remember?”

Hardened? He didn’t sound hardened over the phone. “Sure do. Hang tough, and I’ll see you either tomorrow or Sunday.”

Before he could say goodbye, the line went dead.

Harvey let out a slow, hissing breath.

“Harvey?”

He’d forgotten about Alex, who was still waiting for him. With an effort, he shifted gears. “Sorry. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Seattle**

 

_Déjà vu all over again._

They sat across from one another in an airless room inside the King County Correctional Facility in downtown Seattle. Martin Swanson, the local attorney Harvey had hired, crowded next to him at the table, consulting the file he’d removed from his briefcase. He looked like a Ken doll come to life and smelled of aggressively mediocre cologne.

Mike hunched in his chair, rubbed at his nose, and crossed his arms, jamming his hands into his armpits. Harvey observed the trembling, the ashen complexion, the scarecrow-thin frame. It tore him up to see Mike like this, but he kept his face wiped clean of emotion.

“Mr. Ross,” said Swanson, “I’m confident we can plead this down to a misdemeanor and get you out of here on Monday with nothing more than a fine.”

“What about his record in New York?”

“If the ADA is paying attention, they might bring it up, but it would be difficult to argue that it has anything to do with the current charges. Like I said, we can cut a deal, pay the fine, and get him out of here. Do, uh …" He glanced over at Harvey and back at Mike. “Do you have the means to pay that?”

“I’ll pay,” Harvey answered for him.

A shiver rippled through Mike. “Any chance you could get me out today?”

Swanson shook his head. “It’s Sunday. I already had to call in favors to get them to let Harvey accompany me in here.”

“I just – ” Another tremor shook Mike’s frame. “I’m sick.”

“Have you been examined by a doctor?”

“They -- the CO’s -- laughed in my face.”

Swanson scribbled notes in the file. “I’ll talk to someone. We’ll make sure you get seen today.” He scrutinized Mike, shot another look at Harvey, and said, voice carefully neutral, “If you’ll agree to it, I could, uh, make rehab a condition of your release.”

“What?” said Mike, showing the first sign of animation since Harvey and Swanson had gotten there. “What for? I’m sick, that’s all. I don’t need rehab.”

Swanson opened his mouth as if to argue, but Harvey held up a hand, wordlessly indicating that he had this.

“Mike, you should listen to Martin. Neither of us are stupid, or blind. I ran into Rachel in New York, and she filled me in on your problem.”

Mike buried his face in his hands, the picture of misery.

“You were arrested turning tricks for a fix. That is why, isn’t it?”

They waited. After a moment, Mike nodded wordlessly, still hiding his face.

“Is this a path you wish to continue down?”

A rough headshake.

“Then why – ”

Mike lifted his head, directing damp, red-rimmed eyes toward Harvey. “Can I speak to you alone?”

Beside him, Swanson sighed heavily. “It’s fine. Just let me know what he decides, all right?”

Mike waited until Swanson was gone before leaning across the table, eyes fixed on Harvey. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to.”

“He doesn’t know me like you do.”

“What is it you think I know?”

“I’m not an addict.” Mike immediately belied this declaration with a sniff and another swipe at his nose. He scratched his arm, seemed to realize what he was doing, and placed both palms on the table.

Harvey arched one eyebrow and considered how best to respond. “Is it the word you object to? If it helps, we can make up another word for it. How about ...” He pretended to think. “Dabbler? Dilettante? Addict adjacent?”

Mike glared at him.

“No use getting mad at me, buddy. It is what it is. You’re hooked. Unless you want to continue as you were, and wind up dead or incarcerated, you need to get unhooked. It’s four weeks of your life. Use that big brain of yours, if any pieces of it are still functioning, and I’m confident you’ll conclude that this is your best, wisest, course of action.” He hadn’t intended to sound so harsh, but figured Mike needed the reality check.

“That other guy – Swanson – said he could get me off. It’s my first offense. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of this fucking city. Harvey – ” Mike’s voice cracked as he put his sad puppy face on full, lethal display. “Harvey, _please_. Take me home?”

“Yes.” He held up a hand to halt Mike’s effusive thanks. “If – and only if – you’ll agree to rehab. Nope, don’t even bother with the 'woe is me’ look. You should know by now that I’m immune. Say yes, and I’ll get you home. You can even stay at my place until you’re back on your feet.”

Mouth twitching, Mike thought this over. Finally, he spoke again. “Okay. I’ll agree. But it’s got to be in New York, or close by.”

“What does?”

“The rehab facility.”

“No.”

“What? Why the hell not?”

“You, on a plane for five hours or more? That sounds like a monumentally bad idea in your condition. No. We’ll find you a place locally. Finish the program, and in four weeks I’ll come back and get you.”

“You’d just leave me here on my own? Just like that? I thought you were my friend.”

Harvey bit back a growl. “You wouldn’t be on your own. You’d be with a whole network of people whose job is to get you clean and get your mind right. I don’t think they allow visitors anyway, at least not in the beginning.”

“But -- ”

“And that is all the arguing I intend to do with you. Give me an answer. Now.”

Mike glared at him, expression mutinous. “Fine. I’ll do it. For the record, you’re a fucking son of a bitch.”

Harvey smiled grimly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

This brought the first hint of a smile to Mike’s face. “It’s one of the things I’ve always liked best about you.” The smile widened, turned sly. “It’s the sort of thing that made me want to drop to my knees and wrap my lips around – ”

“Mike, don’t.”

“I could do that for you now. Friends and family discount. All you have to do is fix this rehab thing for me.”

“You already agreed to it, and this conversation is over.”

Angry, appalled on Mike’s behalf, Harvey surged to his feet, lacking his usual grace, and rapped on the door for the guard. Before he left, he took one last look at Mike. He appeared so sick and forlorn that Harvey pushed down his anger and spoke quietly to the guard. “Is a doctor going to see him today?”

“Yeah. Word just came down. It’s his next stop after here.”

Satisfied, Harvey nodded. “Good.”

 

******

 

The arraignment went about as well as could be expected. The ADA didn’t bring up Mike’s past conviction, and agreed to the proposed deal, happy enough to clear such a bullshit case from her workload. Swanson had proven to be more than just a stupidly handsome, chiseled-jaw mannequin, and had already located Mike a bed at _The Northwest Recovery Center_ in Edmonds, less than an hour from downtown, and reputed to be one of the most successful rehab facilities in the country. He (or rather his assistant, he admitted) had also provided a few necessities for Mike – a couple changes of clothes, underwear, socks, pajamas, slippers, toiletries. Anything else he needed would be provided onsite.

Harvey paid the fine. By then Mike looked ready to collapse, or vomit, or make a run for it. Harvey shook hands with Swanson, who eyed him with a speculative gleam. Another time, Harvey might have investigated that gleam further. Now, he thanked him for his help and said he’d keep an eye on his email for his bill.

He’d rented a car at the airport yesterday. When they left the building, he guided Mike to the lot where he’d left it, keeping a firm grasp on his arm. Nearly all of Mike’s energy had deserted him, but he managed a few pro forma pleas for “one last fix,” and a listless curse or two. Mercifully, since Harvey didn’t think his nerves could have withstood it, he didn’t proposition him again.

Once they were in the car and on the road, Mike tilted his seat back as far as it would go, draped his jacket over his face, and remained that way for the entire trip, completely still except for his jittering leg. Swanson had warned Harvey about Seattle traffic, but he was still astounded by how long it took him to get from point A to point B, A being the courthouse lot, and B the on-ramp to I-5.

Once they merged onto the freeway, they made slightly better time. Forty minutes later, the GPS navigation device in the car delivered them unerringly to the facility. By then, Mike seemed to have resigned himself to his fate. He followed Harvey docilely to the front door, went inside, accepted the shopping bag filled with his new things from Harvey, and then promptly handed it over to the waiting counsellor who was handling his intake, the first step of which was a thorough search of his belongings for contraband.

At this point, Harvey was invited to leave. While the counsellor led Mike further into the building, another staff member escorted Harvey back to the entrance.

“He’ll be okay,” she assured Harvey. “He’s got a rough couple of days in front of him, but he’ll be closely supervised by the medical staff while he detoxes. Once he’s over the worst of it, he’ll be assigned a private room, and begin intensive group and individual therapy.”

Nodding, Harvey fished in his pocket and pulled out a business card. “If Mike needs anything you can’t provide – and I do mean anything – I want you to call me. Understand?”

She accepted the card, not bothering to look at it. “I don’t imagine that will be necessary, but I’ll put your contact information in his file just the same. Anything else?”

“When can he have visitors?”

“Week three. Families are encouraged to visit on the weekends. Are you family?”

“The closest thing to it that he has.”

She handed him a pamphlet. “This explains the procedures for family visits, what you can bring, how long you can stay, what’s expected of you while you’re here. We hold special family group sessions that you can sit in on if Mike agrees to it.”

Just the thought of that made Harvey uncomfortable. He doubted that Mike would want him around to hear him spill his secrets.

With a noncommittal grunt, he gave her a tight smile and headed for the door.

Would he be able to get away the weekend in question? Should he even continue to insert himself into Mike’s life? If he thought she’d agree to it, he might have asked Rachel to be present for the family weekend. They were still married, technically anyway. Then he remembered the hard, angry look on her face the last time he’d seen her, and dismissed that idea. Like it or not, he was all that Mike had at the moment. If he could make the time, he’d be back in two weeks.

**Edmonds, WA**

The next several days felt like waking up, slowly and painfully, from a grotesque nightmare.

Mike spent much of the detox process praying for a quick, merciful death. He didn’t scream and curse at the medical staff like the young man in the bed next to his. Instead, he sank down into his misery and endured, using his infrequent moments of lucidity to silently recite sections from New York State Criminal Procedure Law, followed by corresponding statutes from the Revised Code of Washington State. He was faintly relieved – and surprised – that his brain hadn’t turned to complete Swiss cheese after chasing his addiction so aggressively for all those months.

Once he was moved to his own room, and began to mingle with the other patients, it became immediately clear that most of them had been battling their addictions for much longer than him. Many were repeat patients at the facility. Judging from the stories they casually related in Group, their path to the bottom had been slow and gradual, often taking years, or decades, and ending with a violent, resounding crash. Here he was, less than a year in, ahead of the curve as usual. He might have found this realization amusing, except nothing amused him lately.

He’d hoped he could make it through the group therapy sessions by remaining quiet and in the background, but that turned out to be impossible. Passive listening was not an option. So many fears, secrets, and insecurities were dredged up during the first two weeks, he felt like a pumpkin at Halloween, with all his guts scooped out, leaving nothing but a hollow shell.

During breaks and free time, he retreated to his room, to lie completely still on the narrow bed, eyes shut, jaw tight, craving a fix with every traitorous cell in his body. “One day at a time” was a nice enough theory, but the reality was more like one minute at a time, one slow, ticking second, stretching and stretching infinitely, in defiance of all common sense, into the next hallucinogenic second, like a hellish, three-dimensional Dali painting come to life.

He wasn’t going to make it. This truth felt as incontrovertible as the laws of gravity and motion, and every other scientific certainty that had been wrenched from the chaotic universe by people smarter than him. Sure, he’d make it through the four weeks here. If only the rest of the world would oblige him by being as regimented as this place, maybe he’d stand a chance out there. Unfortunately, as the counsellors pointed out every opportunity they got, the outside world was filled with traps and pitfalls and temptation at every turn.

 

******

 

Mike gradually discovered other ways to spend his free time besides lying on his bed marinating in dread and regret. The patient lounge held a large-screen TV, and there were twice-weekly movie nights, complete with popcorn and sugar-free soda and juice. The room also contained a pool table, multiple decks of cards, and a decent selection of board games. In addition to these leisure pursuits, all the patients – especially first-timers like himself – were given stacks of required reading so that they could learn the whys and how’s of their addiction, and to detail all the harm they had likely inflicted on their friends, family and acquaintances.

Against his wishes, he was forced to acknowledge the other patients (outside of Group). They were everywhere, unavoidable, and they all (almost all) wanted to talk about themselves, their pain, their fucked-up lives, and most insistently, their addictions. To hear his fellow inmates tell it, their addiction was another character in their life story, like a horrible sibling or cousin or malicious stranger who stalked them and performed heinous acts of mischief just in order to see them fail.

Between sessions, when the weather cooperated (meaning the rain stopped for more than a few minutes), the patients congregated in a central courtyard between buildings, perched on picnic tables and benches or leaning against a concrete wall, hunched in on themselves to combat the chill wind swirling around them, and chain-smoking as if they believed packing their lungs with sufficient quantities of tar and nicotine would chase away the compulsion to use or drink which had settled into their very bones.

Mike didn’t smoke. A few of his fellow patients seemed suspicious of this. Some avoided him because they’d discovered they couldn’t bum a cigarette off him. Danny and Margot weren’t deterred, latching onto him despite his repeated efforts to repel them with stony silences and flat-eyed stares.

Danny had been the vocal patient in the bed next to Mike during his days in detox. He, too, had been coming off of a heroin addiction. The first time he’d spotted Mike in Group, he’d called him “Detox Buddy,” and hadn’t left him alone after that.

“This place was built for alcoholics,” he informed Mike on his eighth day there, sitting next to him on a damp wooden bench in the courtyard. “They still get a lot of drinkers. No shortage, it seems. But the real money these days is in opioids and crystal meth. At least half the losers here were on oxy, or H. See her?” He waved at a waif of a woman with long, straw-colored hair, wearing Hello Kitty yoga pants and a chunky grey sweater that looked hand-knit. “That’s Margot. Believe it or not, she’s here for pot addiction.”

“No shit. Is that even a thing?”

“Sure. You can get addicted to all kinds of stuff in a not-strictly physical sort of way.” Before Mike could stop him, he was waving Margot over. “Margot, Mike. Mike, Margot.”

Margot mumbled a greeting, took a seat on the other side of Danny, and lit a cigarette.

Mike bent forward, leaning past Danny to get a better look at her. She was pretty enough, in a faded, emaciated, dispirited sort of way.

“So,” said Danny to Mike, “what’s your story? Are your parents paying for this? Or is it covered by insurance?”

The question seemed unreasonably nosy, and Mike considered not bothering to answer. Then he decided he didn’t care if Danny knew. One thing they kept drilling into them here was the importance of strict honesty.

“Neither. It was a requirement of my probation.” That wasn’t the full truth. Harvey had paid for his four weeks here, but Danny didn’t need to know that. So much for honesty.

Danny and Margot exchanged a quick glance.

“Were you dealing?” asked Danny.

He sounded so impressed that Mike was almost sorry to disappoint him. “No. It wasn’t a drug charge.”

“What then?”

Mike hesitated. Margot was giving him an odd, intent look. She knew, he realized, or at least guessed. Was there something about him, some new aura, that revealed how he’d been earning his money lately? He could have made up another smooth lie, but decided that if he wished to regain his peace and solitude, telling them the truth could be the fastest way to accomplish that.

“I was picked up for solicitation,” he admitted.

Danny turned his head to stare at him, eyes wide. Margot pinched her lips together and turned away, appearing pained by his admission, but surprisingly nonjudgmental.

“So, like,” said Danny, “you were doing guys? Or what?”

Margot’s mouths twisted, as if she was holding back a bitter laugh.

Mike sighed. “Sure. Blowing them. Taking it up the ass. Hand jobs for the john on a budget.”

“Oh, wow.” Danny didn’t bother to conceal his fascination. “Were you any good at it?”

“Which part?”

“I don’t know. All of it. The BJ’s, I guess.”

Before Mike could formulate a response, Margot spoke up. “God, Danny. It’s none of your fucking business. No one’s quizzing you about _your_ pathetic sex life.”

“That’s adorable. One whore defending another.” Danny used the butt of one cigarette to light the next.

 _Ah,_ thought Mike, that’s what the looks Margot had been giving him meant. He gave Danny a poisonous grin. “I could show you, if you want. How good I am, that is.”

“Hey, whoa. Slow down. I’m not gay, man.”

“That’s what at least half my customers claimed, or at least seemed to believe about themselves.”

“No offense, man. Really. I mean, I’m pretty open minded. I’ve got Margot for that, though. She gives excellent head, don’t you, babe?” He punched her, probably meaning it to be playful, but she scowled and inched away from him on the bench.

“Doesn’t this place have rules against that?” asked Mike, disliking Danny more and more with each word he spoke.

Danny snorted. “Fuck the rules. As long as we’ve paid in full, in advance, they don’t give a shit what we do.”

Mike recalled something he’d read that morning in one of the assigned books. “Isn’t it considered an impediment to recovery, though? Hooking up with another addict, or anyone, really, at this stage?”

“Recovery?” Danny shook his head slowly and gave Mike a pitying look. “This is my third time here. There’s no recovery from this shit, just a temporary reprieve. How many times has it been for you, Margot?”

She held up four fingers. When Danny turned back to Mike, she bent down all but the middle finger. Mike exchanged a look with her, and they both smirked.

“See? There you go,” said Danny, who hadn’t been watching her. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking this little vacation is going to fix anything for you. They get us clean, fatten us up a little, feed our heads with some fake-ass, happy-happy bullshit, and then send us back out there to do it all again. You and Margot will both be back out there working opposite sides of the street before you know it. Maybe you can wave to each other every once in a while or meet up when your shifts are over to compare notes on dick sizes, or technique, or whatever whores chat about in their spare time.”

Margot slid off the bench and stood, not looking at either one of them. “You’re such a pig. Why don’t you go fuck yourself? Next time you screw up, I hope your parents kick you out on the street for good. I’m sure your English Lit degree will come in real handy. Oh, and if you come near my room again, I’m telling the staff.”

She stalked off, leaving Mike alone with Danny.

Danny sucked sharply on his cigarette and expelled a stream of smoke on a harsh cough. “She wasn’t that good, anyway.”

Mike had had enough of him and stood up, brushing dirt off the back of his pajama bottoms. “I have an appointment.”

“That’s right. Your first session with the great Dr. McGready. If I don’t see you at dinner, I’ll stop by your room to make sure you’re stocked up on tissues.” He was still laughing when Mike pushed through the door and back into the building.

 

******

 

Dr. McGready appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties. His thick, white hair curled in an unruly tangle down the back of his neck. A matching walrus mustache and long sideburns leant him a Wilford Brimley meets David Crosby look that gave the impression he was going to spout some folksy wisdom spiced with the occasional, “groovy,” or, “far out, man.” If that’s what Mike was expecting, he was disappointed.

Dr. McGready, shut the file he’d been reading – presumably Mike’s – and gestured at the chair on the other side of his desk. “You’re an attorney?” was the first thing he said.

Mike blinked a couple of times and sat down. “Yes.” As far as he knew, he hadn’t been disbarred in absentia, either in Seattle or New York.

“All the advantages in life, and you still managed to fuck it up.” McGready shook his head sadly and muttered, “People are idiots.”

Shifting in the chair, Mike stretched his legs out in front of him and rested laced hands on his belly. “Which advantages are you talking about? Feel free to be specific.”

“Brains. Education. Good looks. Great job. I’m assuming your wife is a catch. Am I leaving anything out?”

“Ah ha. So, you think I’m good looking. You interested in the businessman’s special? I’d give you a discount.” He smirked at the doctor.

McGready huffed out a laugh. “Is this your usual pitch? Because I’ve gotta say, it’s a little weak.” He didn’t break eye contact with Mike. His bright blue eyes were hard as marble, filled with challenge and wry humor.

Mike grinned, sitting up straighter. “Oh, okay. I get it. You want to provoke me. Piss me off so I’ll … I don’t know … _reveal_ myself or something. Don’t bother. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’m an open fucking book.”

Dr. McGready’s eyebrows lifted. “So? Go ahead. Let’s hear your life story. Reader’s Digest condensed version, if you don’t mind.”

It was a struggle not to groan loud and long at the request. How many times would he have to go over this ground? At least once more, it seemed.

“Fine. My parents died when I was eleven. Horrible, sad, tragic. Tears, regret, self-recrimination. Went to live with my grandmother. Made it through high school somehow, despite my over-the-top shitty attitude. I got into Columbia, was accepted to Harvard, and was banned from both schools on the same day thanks to bad choices which I will regret for the rest of my life. Worked some crappy, low-paying jobs, smoked too much pot, did some crimes – minor crimes, compared to what was to come. Then, with no law degree, and no license, I somehow managed to land a job at a prestigious Manhattan law firm.”

“Wait. Tell me more about that.”

Mike went through the whole Chilton interview story, and the panic and insecurity which had filled him through his first year or more at the firm. Dr. McGready chuckled at parts of the retelling – Mike had polished it to a decent piece of comedy over the years – but stopped him with a confused expression to ask, “Why the hell did he do it?”

“Why did who do what?”

“Harvey. Why did he hire you in the first place? That’s the part of your story that puzzles me.”

 _Just that part_? “I impressed him with my memory, and my knowledge of the law.”

“But he must have known the possible consequences of hiring you. If he’d gotten to where he was, he certainly was not a stupid man. Why would he take such a risk?”

It’s not as if Mike had never asked himself the same question. He’d long ago concluded that it had been a combination of Harvey being impressed with him, and Harvey’s arrogant assumption that he could play the game using rules of his own devising.

Mike shrugged. “He took the risk because he’s a risk-taker. Simple as that. Or he was. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that his risk-taking tendencies have been tempered over the years since that one colossal gamble.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. That might have had something to do with me ending up in prison, among other things.”

“You’ve been arrested before? I didn’t see anything in your file.”

“It was in another state. It wasn’t brought up at my arraignment. I think they just wanted to rush me out of there.”

“Hmm. I’m curious: how did Harvey react to you going to prison?”

“Not well. He tried to work a deal where he’d go in my place. When that didn’t pan out, he moved heaven and earth to get me out. In the end, I only ended up serving a few weeks, instead of the years I’d been sent up for.”

“He must really care for you.”

“Harvey?” Mike scratched idly at his beard, thinking that it was probably past time to shave the damn thing off. “I suppose so. In his own way.”

“Didn’t he fly all the way out here when you were arrested a few weeks ago?”

Mike shrugged again.

“You said yourself that he moved heaven and earth to get you out the first time. He also offered to take your place.”

“Do you have a point?”

“It’s just that his actions seem above and beyond for an employer, or even for a friend. The only person I’d go that far for was my wife, when she was still alive. I’m not sure I would have done as much for my own children.”

“Still waiting for that point, Doc.”

“I’d have to meet him in person, and speak with him, but based solely on what you’ve told me, I’d say the man loves you.”

Mike let out an exasperated snort. “Now you sound like my wife. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes a loyal friend is just that. I never – we never – It wasn’t like that. Not even a little.”

“There are many different kinds of love. I never said it was romantic.” Dr. McGready’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Your vehement protestations reveal more than you probably realize.”

“Come off it. We were colleagues who became friends. Full stop. I never had those kinds of feelings for him.” As the words came out of his mouth, they felt like a lie. Mike swallowed convulsively, biting his lip. “It’s not like that.” Even to his own ears, he sounded uncertain.

“I’m not going to tell you what you feel, or guess at Harvey’s feelings. I’d just like you to think about it. Consider the notion, and what it might mean if true.”

“It’s not.”

“Just the same.” The doctor glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Looks like our time is up. We’ll talk again in a week.”

“It’s not true,” Mike muttered as he got up to leave. “More than likely, I’ll never see him again.”

“Would it surprise you to learn that he’s already been in contact with the staff about coming back next weekend for Family Day?”

It absolutely surprised Mike, so much so that he was frozen in place for several seconds, and could only gape at Dr. McGready, who gazed back at him, smug and amused.

The doctor’s next appointment tapped softly on the door, and Mike took this as his cue to leave. It was time for dinner, but he wasn’t hungry. He went to his room and flopped down on the bed, angry at the doctor and wishing, as he’d done every day too many times to count, that he could get high, shut off his fucking brain, and disappear from the world for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Edmonds, WA**

 

Mike was late for breakfast. When he’d filled his tray with cereal, milk and coffee, he scanned the room for an empty seat. Danny waved at him from the table where he sat with Margot. Mike sighed and gave in to the inevitable, weaving through tables to reach his only friends here, or as close as it got. After yesterday, he was surprised to find them sitting together.

Margot seemed reluctant to make eye contact, and although Mike was dying to ask why she was even talking to Danny, much less taking a meal with him after the way he’d treated her, he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Missed you at dinner,” said Danny.

“He probably couldn’t stand to see your stupid face again so soon.”

Mike gave Margot a faint smile. “More or less.”

“Somebody help,” sneered Danny, “the whores are ganging up on me.”

Mike rolled his eyes. He was oddly unaffected by the intended slur. He’d done what he’d done and while he might feel a muted sort of shame for that, he didn’t much care what an idiot like Danny thought about him.

Margot, it appeared, was more sensitive to his words. She curled into herself and set down her knife and fork with exaggerated precision. Her mouth twisted to one side. “You’re such a fucking jerk”

“There’s the little bitch I know.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t know shit, motherfucker.” She picked up her tray and moved to another table that had just emptied.

They watched her go. “Must be that time of the month,” Danny said.

Mike turned to glare at Danny. “If anyone’s a little bitch here, it’s you. Not to mention an asshole.”

“Wow, Mike. Way to be supportive.” Danny shook his head, feigning hurt.

“What is it that I’m supposed to be supporting? Your continuing assholianism?”

Danny dug his fork into his watery scrambled eggs. “Mine? Take a look in the mirror, dipshit.”

Without another word, Mike abandoned him to go eat with Margot. She gave him a quick, curious glance. They sat quietly for a while, each picking at their own breakfast.

Mike lectured himself to keep his mouth shut, but finally could not restrain himself from speaking.

“Look,” he said, “I realize it’s none of my business, and that we barely know each other, but I’m still going to give you this one piece of advice. Stay away from Danny. He’s selfish, and stupid, and he doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

“He’s a guy. Whatever.”

“If you want to continue to consider yourself a commodity, fine, but I don’t see you getting anything of value in return from him." He sighed. “Shit, I’m one to talk. I was blowing guys for just the chance of a fix.” He let out a rough-sounding laugh. “I’d blow any of these losers in this room right now if it meant I could get high.” He was only half-serious, but that was one-half too much.

She turned to examine him with bored eyes and a deeply cynical expression that would have been more at home on a woman twice her age. “Dude. Don’t get the mistaken impression that we’re bonding here. Don’t act like we’re the same. We’re not. You get clean, you can go back to your high-paying job, your nice home. Maybe your wife will even forgive you and come back. Me? I get clean and I go back to doing exactly what I was doing before. I look at you, and I see a spoiled man-child, a tourist who got in a little further than he meant to.”

Her words stung, but they also hit the bullseye so squarely that he answered more sharply than he might have otherwise. “Lady, first of all, don’t assume you know me. Second, you are so full of shit I don’t know where to begin. You’re addicted to _pot,_ for fuck’s sake. That right there is laughable, so don’t go calling me a tourist. I don’t know who is paying your way here, but they ought to ask for a refund. And don’t kid yourself. You don’t have to go back to turning tricks. If you do, it’s because you want to, or on some level you believe that’s all you’re good for.”

She smiled, malicious and brittle. “At least I’ve committed to my career path. Based on what you’ve shared in Group, you can’t seem to commit to anything for long, can you? Or anyone.” She held his gaze for what felt like nearly a full minute, and then her lips twisted into a wry smile. “So, tell me, what was your weirdest trick?”

Smiling back reluctantly, Mike said, “Nope. We’re not doing that. We are not going to compare notes. I’m sure you could one-up me on just about anything I told you.”

She nodded. “I do have some pretty good stories.”

“Maybe you should write a book.”

“Right. Because my life is so unique.” She scowled, but her bright eyes still held more than a hint of humor. “Maybe you should write a book, Mr. Fake Lawyer.”

 _Oh, right._ He’d actually admitted to that in Group. “You think so? Who should play me in the movie?”

“I think they already made that movie. Starring Leo.”

“Leo?”

“DiCaprio.”

“Wasn’t he a fake airline pilot?”

“Fake, I believe, is the operative word.”

Mike decided to change the subject. “How much longer do you have in here?”

“Another week.”

“What then?”

“What do you think?”

“You don’t have to go back to what you were doing before.”

“Debatable. What about you?”

He was going back to New York and let Harvey rescue him yet again. How many times would this make? Mike felt weirdly guilty that he had an escape plan and Margot didn’t. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “I have an offer of a bed – or couch – back in New York.”

“No strings?”

He knew what she meant. “No.” He laughed. “Well, he might want to put me back to work as a lawyer.”

Margot stared at him, eyes shining. “You should do it. You shouldn’t even have to think about it, not even for a second. If you have a way out, you should take it. No question.”

“You have options too.”

Her mouth took on a cynical twist once more. “So you keep trying to tell me. Look, I gotta go take a leak. I’ll see you in Group.”

 

******

 

Margot wasn’t in Group. She wasn’t out in the courtyard chain-smoking during break time. She wasn’t at lunch. Whispers began to go around, but Mike wasn’t let in on whatever the secret was.

He expected someone to come looking for him when he didn’t show up for afternoon Group. No one did. As the hours stretched by, he occasionally heard voices in the hallway, sometimes raised in urgency, sometimes amused, or with a gossipy undertone.

Hunger drove him out of his room and back to the cafeteria for dinner. He kept his gaze on his tray and on the floor, refusing to chance eye contact which would force him into the company of someone he didn’t wish to interact with, namely Danny. He located an empty table and settled in to consume dry meatloaf and mashed potatoes which looked suspiciously as if they came out of a box.

Danny sank down into the chair across from him.

“Dude,” said Mike through a mouthful of food, “why do you feel the need to camp up my butt this way? It’s not a good look.”

The next thing he knew, the forkful of meatloaf had been slapped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Mike froze and took a closer look at Danny. He appeared to be furious with Mike for some reason. “What the hell was that for?”

“She’s gone. I don’t know what the fuck you said to her, but Margot took off right after breakfast. She didn’t even say goodbye.”

Ignoring his twinge of guilt, Mike gave a careless shrug. “No one’s being kept here against their will.”

“No. We’re not. But she’s not going to get the help she needs out there.”

“Right. And you’re the help she needs?”

 “What the hell do you know about it? She knew how I felt. I cared about her. You knew her for like a minute.”

Mike sighed, urging himself to calm down. It felt as if his nerves were jumping out of his skin as he tried to process the news. “Look, man. I’m sorry. Honestly, though, we just had a conversation. I didn’t say anything to her that hasn’t been said before in Group, in a much blunter way. I’m guessing she would have left regardless.” He wasn't sure he believed his own words, which seemed to hang in the air for several seconds before Danny gave a frustrated sounding growl and left the cafeteria.

Gradually, Mike became aware that all eyes in the room seemed to be on him. _It wasn’t me,_ he wanted to protest. _I barely knew her._ Still, he couldn’t forget the words he’d spoken to her. He’d only meant to be helpful and supportive, but what if Danny was right, and she'd left because of him? What if something happened to her which could have been prevented?

Having lost his appetite, he followed Danny’s example and left the room.

 

**Manhattan**

 

In the two weeks since he’d dropped him off at rehab, Mike hadn’t been far from Harvey’s mind. It galled him to imagine all that Mike had been through. He still couldn’t comprehend how things had fallen apart so swiftly. Mike must have felt completely abandoned after Rachel left him. What might have happened if he hadn’t been arrested and as a result been forced to call Harvey? How much worse might it have gotten?

Sometimes Harvey toyed with the idea of putting distance between himself and Mike (other than the physical distance), of leaving him to repair his life on his own. It was never a serious option, more of a test to gauge his true feelings. He couldn’t decide whether to consider it passing the test or failing it, but imagining himself going on with his life as if nothing had happened, imagining that Mike was no longer his responsibility, went against his most basic instincts of loyalty.

It also went against the specific, confusing feelings he had for Mike. He hesitated to put a name to those feelings, but was self-aware enough to recognize that he was only kidding himself, and not doing a terribly good job of it.

He’d already booked his flight back for the family weekend. No matter how much he waffled and navel-gazed about the whole thing, there was never any real doubt that he’d make the trip, because Mike needed him. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where he wouldn’t go to him if Mike was in trouble.

 

******

 

**Edmonds, WA**

 

“I’m here to see Mike Ross.” Harvey carried two gifts with him in a large shopping bag: a warm winter coat and a _Star Trek_ t-shirt he hoped would get a laugh out of Mike.

The woman behind the counter – not the same one he remembered from his last time here – looked up from the paperwork she’d been filling out, gave him a curious once-over and consulted a clipboard. “You’re Harvey Specter?”

“I am.”

“ID please.” She examined his New York driver’s license, handed it back, turned the clipboard around and set it in front of him. “Sign here, please.” She pointed to the line on the clipboard next to his name.

Harvey plucked a pen from his jacket pocket and signed with a flourish.

“I’ll need to search your bag.” The woman – Ruth, according to her nametag – gave him a wry smile probably meant to deflect any offense he might feel toward the request, which was really more of an order than a request.

He handed over the bag, and she searched each pocket of the coat before lifting out the t-shirt, squinting at it, and reading slowly, “’Trek Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself’. Huh. I don’t get it. That supposed to be Mr. Spock?”

“It is indeed.”

“Ah. Okay, dear. You’re clear to go in. Here’s your visitor’s badge.” She handed him the badge and watched while he pinned it to his collar. “Follow the hallway to the right. The meeting room is about a third of the way down on the left. Mike should be in there already. If he’s not, someone can point you toward his room.”

Harvey nodded his thanks, picked up the bag, and walked down the hall. As he approached the meeting room, he heard a low murmur of voices which grew louder the closer he got. He pushed through a pair of swinging doors into a room that looked disconcertingly like a high school classroom. Tablet arm desks with blue plastic chairs had been pushed together into small clusters of, he realized after a moment, what must be family units. Some of the clusters consisted of only two people, but most held three or four or more. At least one of the patients seemed to have invited their whole, sizeable clan.

He spotted Mike easily. Of all the people in the room (several dozen, Harvey guessed) he was the only one sitting by himself. He slouched in the corner, picking idly at the corner of the desk, long legs stretched in front of him. Harvey had a brief vision of Mike enduring high school, in this exact same insouciant pose (minus the beard).

Harvey walked toward him, wondering how long it would take Mike to notice him. When he was perhaps six feet away, Mike glanced up and froze. Whatever Harvey expected, it hadn’t been the shock on Mike’s face that morphed into wariness and … embarrassment?

Mike popped to his feet, banging a knee on the underside of the desk. “Fuck,” he bit out. Then, “Harvey,” spoken with a heavy dollop of disbelief. He seemed undecided as to what to do next. Hug Harvey? Shake his hand? He did neither, shifting from one foot to the other, and back again.

“In the flesh. And I come bearing gifts.” He thrust the bag at Mike, holding it as if it might serve as a buffer which could absorb all the awkwardness that hovered in the air between them.

Mike didn’t take the bag from him right away. He stared at Harvey, a slight frown creasing the space between his eyebrows. “Dr. McGready said you were coming, but I didn’t believe him.”

“Of course I came.” He wasn’t about to mention the doubts he’d been experiencing. “Let me take a look at you.” His gaze traveled up and down Mike’s form, and he nodded approvingly. “You look better.” It was true. Mike had added a little weight, although he was still far too thin. Underneath his beard, the deathly pallor had been replaced with a healthier tone. In spite of the improvements, Harvey did not care for the shadows that lingered in his eyes. “Tell me the truth. How are you feeling?”

Mike shrugged, glanced to the side, and then back at Harvey’s face, as if still trying to convince himself that he was really there. “Better, I guess. Still a little shaky. My appetite’s improving.” His low laugh sounded uneasy. “One day at a time, right?”

Unsure what to say in reply, Harvey thrust the bag at him. “Here. They said I could bring you gifts, so …”

Mike accepted the bag from him and levered himself back into the chair. Harvey dragged another desk closer, wincing as the legs squealed on the vinyl floor tiles. After measuring the spatial dimensions with his eyes, he elected to remain standing, leaning one hand on the back of the chair while he watched Mike explore the bag.

“Oh, wow,” said Mike, holding the coat up. It was a gunmetal parka-style coat with silver-grey faux fur lining the hood. “Not gonna lie. I’ve been missing my winter coat.” He colored. “I sold it eight months ago.” With his face turned down, he held the coat in his lap and reached into the bag again. After he’d laid the t-shirt on the desktop, carefully smoothed it and examined the picture and words, his lips twisted into a cynical smile. “Too late, right?”

It took a moment for Harvey to understand what he meant. Then he remembered the words on the shirt: _Trek Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself._ Harvey’s throat felt tight as he shook his head. “No. I don’t believe that. You aren’t wrecked. You can absolutely recover and get your life back on track.”

Mike folded the t-shirt into a perfect square, placed it back in the bag, and stuffed the coat in on top of it. “Thanks for this, Harvey. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

Harvey was saved from having to reply when a tall black woman entered and walked to the front of the classroom. Almost immediately, the chatter in the room trailed off.

“Welcome,” she said, smiling, “to all of the family and friends visiting today. My name is Grace, and I’m an alcoholic. I’m also a licensed clinical social worker, and I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know many of the people here in this room. You all should have had the opportunity to look at a schedule, but basically we’ll be spending the morning together, and you’ll get a taste of the group therapy our patients endure, er – ” She smiled.

Light laughter at this.

“That is to say, that the patients attend daily. You may be asked to participate, but of course it’s not mandatory. I hope you’ll consider it, as we have found your support to be instrumental in the recovery process. We’ll break around eleven, for an hour of free time, during which you’re invited to visit your loved one’s living quarters, tour the grounds, talk to staff if you choose, and ask whatever questions you have. Lunch begins at noon in the cafeteria. This afternoon, you have the option of either joining us in the lounge to watch a movie, or you can visit with your family member in their room, or in the courtyard, weather permitting. Any questions before we begin?”

She looked inquiringly around the room, but nobody spoke.

“All right, if there aren’t any questions, let’s rearrange our chairs into a circle, and get to know one another.

 

******

 

“You have to go through that every day?” Harvey asked, as he walked with Mike down the hallway towards Mike’s room.

“Sometimes twice a day. And once a week I get a private session with the resident psychologist.”

“That would be Dr. McGready?”

Mike gave him a sideways glance. “Yep.”

“You’ve had two sessions with him so far?”

“Just one. Next one is scheduled for Monday.”

“Do you like him? Is he addressing your, uh, problems?”

They’d reached Mike’s room. Harvey followed him inside and watched while he hung the coat in the narrow closet, smoothing it on the hanger, hand lingering as if enjoying the feel of the material. Or maybe he was just stalling, filling time so he wouldn’t have to turn around and face Harvey with no more buffers between them.

“He seems like a take no prisoners kind of guy,” said Mike.

Harvey spotted a straight-backed chair in the corner of the room and sat down. “Remember Dr. Lipschitz?”

Mike turned to face him. “Who? Oh, you mean Louis’s guy? No, I never had the pleasure.”

“I did.”

Mike’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh? How did that – ”

“Couple’s therapy.”

Mike’s face seemed to freeze at this. “Couples? You and …” His cheeks pinkened, and he looked everywhere but at Harvey.

“Me and Louis.”

Mike’s gaze swung back to him. “You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not. We were at one another’s throats. The firm was suffering. Louis suggested it. Or rather, Lipschitz did.”

“How did he get you to agree?”

“It wasn’t all that difficult. I could see we had a problem, and that the inevitable result of doing nothing would not have been good for anyone, least of all the firm.” He shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to admit that you need help.”

Mike let out a low snort. “Smooth.” He flopped down onto the bed on his back, hands behind his head. “Well, maybe I wasn’t ready to admit it a couple of weeks ago, but I’m here now, and I’m working the program.”

“You were quiet in group this morning. Don’t you have to speak up for this to work?”

Mike’s sigh turned into a groan. “I do. Every day. Those people know more about me than … well, frankly, more than I’m comfortable with.”

“More than me?”

Mike’s brow wrinkled, as if his head had begun to ache. “There’s very little about me that you don’t know.”

Which wasn’t exactly an answer. “So, why so quiet today?”

“I’m tired.”

Harvey gave him a skeptical look.

“I am. And I’m worried.”

“What are you worried about?”

Rolling onto his side, Mike propped his head up with one hand, squinting at Harvey as if he couldn’t believe he even needed to ask. “Everything. My future. My past. My marriage. Giving in to the urge. Having all of my good intentions just … collapse.” His face contorted for half a second. “Using again. Needing it. Craving it. I worry that I can’t come back from this.”

“Mike …”

“And if all that wasn’t enough, I worry I’ll say the wrong thing to one of these other people. I already –” He broke off, as if he couldn’t bear to complete the thought.

“You already what?”

Appearing restless, Mike sat up on the edge of the bed, one leg jittering. “I don’t know. I might have driven this one person away. I mean, she left, and she was going back to a bad place, and I don’t even know why I was such an asshole to her. They regulate everything in here, but they can’t regulate us, can they? We … we humans, we’re the most lethal thing of all aren’t we?”

“I don’t believe that.”

Mike shot to his feet. He began an agitated pacing. “You don’t have to. You can afford not to. But I figure that if we’re not hurting ourselves, we’re busy hurting other people, and that is messed up. Don’t you see?”

Harvey frowned, tracking Mike’s movements as he stomped back and forth in front of him. “I don’t agree. You’re taking the most pessimistic interpretation possible. I see people performing acts of kindness and compassion every day.”

“Not enough. Not enough to make up for all the rest.”

“I don’t know if it balances out in the end, but maybe it doesn’t need to. Maybe the kindness is more of a light to lead people out of the darkness.” Harvey stopped, slightly taken aback by the passion in his own voice, and the optimistic view of existence for which he’d found himself arguing. He wasn’t entirely sure he even believed his own words, but it seemed important that Mike believed that _Harvey_ believed.

Mike had paused in his pacing to gape at Harvey.

“Look,” said Harvey, “my point is that whatever kind of black hole you’ve sunk into, there is always a path out.”

Mutely, Mike shook his head.

“Yes,” Harvey insisted. “Maybe you can’t see it right this moment, but I guarantee you it exists. And if it requires me dragging you bodily out of the dark, I’ll do it.”

A sad smile quirked Mike’s lips. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Harvey knew that, he knew that ultimately Mike had to find his own way out, but he wasn’t prepared to back down yet. “Hey,” he said, standing and moving closer to place his hands on Mike’s shoulders, “who do you think you’re talking to? I’m the fixer. I’m the reigning champion of making things work.”

Going still under his touch, lower lip sucked underneath his front teeth, Mike stared directly into Harvey’s eyes. His own eyes had gone dark, the blue nearly blotted out by dilated pupils. “You always had too much faith in me, even from the start. You’ve been trying to fix me, to make me work, for what? Eight years now? I’d say you’re more like the reigning champion of lost causes.”

“Mike …” Harvey’s hands tightened on Mike, and he felt a ripple run through him. Their gazes remained locked upon one another. The moment stretched, and expanded, and Harvey began to imagine he saw something in Mike’s gaze that he’d never seen, or never recognized before. Reacting more to that than to Mike’s words, he breathed, “I’ll never give up on you. On us.”

Mike was staring at his mouth, he realized with mild shock. Was this it, then? Would they finally –

The door flew inwards, banging against the wall, bouncing back, and then swinging wide as a tall young man with auburn hair and wild eyes stormed into the room and zeroed in on Mike.

“You goddamn, cocksucking son of a bitch.”

Harvey let go of Mike and stepped in front of him, holding one hand out to ward off the stranger. No, not a stranger. He remembered him from the group therapy session this morning. He hadn’t said much, but had maintained a distant, surly attitude the entire time.

“You need to take a step back,” Harvey warned him, striving to keep his voice calm.

“Do I? Do I, Mike? Did you tell him what you did? Did you?”

Mike took hold of Harvey’s arm, as if afraid he was about to take a swing. “What the fuck are you talking about, Danny?”

“Margot. Ring a bell? Or have you forgotten her already?”

“Of course not.” Mike maneuvered himself in front of Harvey.

“Well, guess what? She’s dead.”

The dense silence that followed this pronouncement lasted several seconds. Then, “How?” Mike choked out.

With a clear shot at him now, Danny shoved Mike hard in the chest, slamming him into Harvey.

“Hey,” said Harvey, “I said, back off.”

Neither of them seemed to hear him

“She was back on the stroll. I guess you convinced her that pot addiction just wasn’t hardcore enough. They found her – ” His face contorted as he struggled to get the words out. “The needle was still in her arm. She OD’d in the restroom at Arby’s. Fucking, _Arby’s,_ Mike.”

It wasn’t funny. There was nothing funny about it. Harvey was shocked when Mike barked out a laugh. Danny was probably shocked, too, but more than that, he was enraged.  With little warning, he let fly with a one-two punch combination that would not have looked out of place in a professional boxing match. Mike’s head flew back, cracking against Harvey’s jaw, and then he doubled over when the second blow hit him squarely in the diaphragm.

Harvey moved belatedly, sidestepping Mike to grab Danny’s wrists before he could hit him again. He was peripherally aware of Mike behind him, dropping to his knees and wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath.

The wrestling match with Danny was brief. Harvey managed to spin him around, yank his arms behind him, and shove him up against the wall. “Calm down,” he grated in his ear, “before I’m forced to call the police.”

The fight appeared to drain from Danny at that, and he began to cry, painful-sounding, wrenching sobs. Harvey glanced back at Mike, who remained on the floor, face pale, wearing an expression of horror.

“I did it,” he whispered, and then, louder, gaze fixed on Harvey, “I killed her Harvey. I killed her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Edmonds, WA**

 

The commotion in Mike’s room had drawn attention. Several staff members arrived to break up the fight, which wasn’t much of a fight, and was over before they got there. Harvey turned a now quiescent Danny over to one of the counsellors and a large man who could have been security. A second counsellor – Grace, Harvey remembered from the Group session – stayed in the room to, as she explained to Harvey, take their statements to prepare an incident report.

“Are you injured, Mike?” she asked. “Do you need to see the doctor?”

From where he still sat on the floor staring down at his hands, Mike shook his head.

“What happened in here?”

Mike said nothing, his expression withdrawn and still.

“We have a zero-tolerance policy towards violence,” she informed him.

Harvey bristled at her accusatory tone. “Mike didn’t do anything. That other guy attacked him.”

“For Mike’s sake, I hope that’s the case. I’d hate to see his probation revoked over this.”

“It is the case. I was standing right here. Mike? Tell her.”

The only sign Mike had heard Harvey was a slight tightening of his lips.

“He’s clearly upset by what happened,” Harvey offered.

Grace regarded Mike, displaying as skilled a poker face as Harvey had ever seen. “Hm. If Danny confirms Mike’s side of things, there shouldn’t be a problem. In any case, Danny will be leaving the property as soon as we have his statement. His parents are onsite already, so that simplifies things somewhat.” She paused. “Mike? It would be helpful if you could give us your version of events now, so we can call the matter closed. Did Danny hit you unprovoked?”

Mike appeared to think this over, and then said, voice low and rough, “No. I provoked him.”

Alarm thrummed inside Harvey. Didn’t Mike realized what he could possibly be setting in motion?

“Stop,” he ordered Mike. “Do not say another word.”

“She wants the truth. I’m giving it to her.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s shaken up and needs a few minutes to collect himself.”

“Harvey –”

“Not. Another. Word.” Harvey faced Grace. “I need to talk to Mike alone. Can we have a few minutes, please?”

Her gaze was an odd mixture of skepticism and compassion. “Of course. Lunch is being served. Why don’t we talk after we’ve had a chance to eat something?”

Relieved, Harvey nodded. That would give him time to talk sense into Mike. “Thank you,” he said, watched her leave, and closed the door behind her.

He waited a few moments before speaking, needing to get his emotions under control. “All right,” he said, as calmly as possible, “let’s get a few things straight.”

No reply from Mike.

Stalking closer, Harvey dropped to his haunches in front of Mike, hesitated for half a second, and then clasped his shoulder. “Mike,” he said, received no reaction, and gave his shoulder a shake. “At least give me some indication you can hear me. A nod would be great.”

After a long pause, Mike gave a tight nod.

“Good. Kindly pay close attention to what I’m saying. If you give this facility a reason to kick you out, you’re facing the very real possibility of jail time. Judges tend to take it badly when people don’t live up to their end of a deal. Now, I’m sorry about what happened to your friend.”

Mike stirred at this, as if he wanted to say something, but Harvey tightened his hold on his shoulder and kept talking.

“She made her own choices. We, all of us, every day, make choices. Whatever you said to her, however you think it might have driven her to do what she did, in the end it’s entirely irrelevant, not to mention arrogant. Do you really believe you held that level of power over someone you’d just met? Your input was one small piece of input she received that day, on top of a lifetime likely filled with toxic messages. Add to that, once she left this place, you have no way of knowing what other events or people acted upon her.”

He watched Mike’s face as he struggled to absorb what Harvey was trying to tell him. He wanted to reach out and touch the reddened spot on his cheek where Danny had hit him, which would probably darken into a bruise soon, but restrained himself.

“What was her name again?”

Frowning, Mike whispered, “Margot.” He looked straight into Harvey’s eyes, voice rising. “I said what I said to her, she left, and now she’s dead. Cause and effect. How is that not my fault?”

“If we use your logic, it’s my fault you’re here.”

“What?”

Harvey dropped into a sitting position, reluctantly releasing Mike. He experienced a flash of déjà vu. Their respective positions sharply reminded him of the aftermath of the fight they’d had the night before Mike went to prison.

“I hired you. You went to prison. My fault. You ran away to Seattle because you wanted a clean slate.”

“That’s not why –”

“My fault. Everything that follows after that is my fault. The drugs. The prostitution. The arrest. If we continue that line of reasoning to its logical – or not so logical – conclusion, then Margot’s death is my fault as well.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You ended up here as a result of my actions.”

“That’s bullshit, Harvey. You didn’t decide to goad Margot. I did.”

“And you didn’t decide to take a lethal dose of heroin. Margot did. See how that works?”

Mike surged to his feet, glaring down at Harvey. “That’s not – _shit_.” He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “Whatever.”

Mike continued to scowl at Harvey, but the bleak certainty of guilt had left his eyes. Pressing his advantage, Harvey rose slowly and advanced on him, forcing himself to stop with a couple of feet still separating them. “Like I said, it’s all about choices. You can’t hold yourself responsible for hers. We’re all free agents, more or less.”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I guess. It’s just … I feel … I’m not completely innocent here. You didn’t hear the things I said to her.”

Harvey had to smile at that. “I don’t need to. I’ve been the target of your unique style of criticism often enough in the past. Words can be harsh, but they’re not lethal. You made a mistake. Now you learn from it and do better.”

Crossing his arms, Mike stared past him and let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “When the hell did you get so smart about this stuff?”

“I’ve always been smart about this stuff.” Which wasn’t precisely true. “Look, will you at least agree to tell the truth about what just happened between you and Danny? Seeing you walk into prison once was more than enough for me.”

Mike sighed. “Yes. Fine. I’ll agree to that. I wasn’t much looking forward to a repeat of that experience myself.” A tiny smile softened his expression. “Thanks, Harvey. I honestly don’t know why you still bother with me, but I am grateful that you keep showing up.”

Harvey knew exactly why he kept showing up, and if it had something to do with loyalty, it had more to do specifically with Mike. It was past time he admitted his feelings, but couldn’t manage it yet.

All he said in reply to Mike was, “Always,” and hoped that would be enough for now, and that Mike would understand, on some level, what he meant. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but lunch sounds good.”

“It wouldn’t, if you’d been subjected to the food here.” Appearing utterly worn out, Mike lay on the bed. “You go ahead. I seem to have lost my appetite. I doubt I could eat anything right now.”

Harvey examined him closely, feeling uncharacteristically indecisive. On the one hand, he hated to leave him alone, but on the other hand, Mike could probably use a few minutes alone to privately process the news he’d received. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll come back here after I’ve eaten. You’ll still be here, right?”

“Sure.” Mike’s smile was weak. “Where else do I have to go?”

“And you’ll tell Grace the real story about what happened?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

Even with these assurances, Harvey felt reluctant to leave him. He wanted to demonstrate his trust of Mike, but he seemed so fragile at the moment. He’d been here for two weeks already, though, without Harvey to watch over him. “I shouldn’t be gone too long. I’ll bring you back something.”

“It’s okay. Really. I think I’ll close my eyes for a few minutes.”

With nothing else to say, Harvey left, leaving the door open behind him.

The cafeteria was crowded when Harvey found his way there. Burgers, sandwiches, hot dogs, fries, potato salad and fresh fruit were on the menu. He fixed himself a burger, added a cup of coffee to his tray, and wove through the tables until he found an empty one. He was halfway through his burger when he was joined by an older man with white hair and a walrus mustache.

“I’m told you’re Harvey Specter,” the man said by way of introduction as he sat and stole one of Harvey’s fries.

Harvey squelched his kneejerk arrogant reply to that opening, and simply nodded. “I am.”

“I’m Dr. McGready.”

“Mike’s therapist.”

“That’s right.”

Harvey couldn’t control the sarcasm that infused his response. “Well, you’re doing a fine job. Just outstanding.”

Instead of taking offense, the doctor’s gaze went laser-sharp on Harvey. “Oh? Something I should know about?”

“You heard about what happened between Mike and Danny?”

“Why do you think I’m here on my day off?”

Harvey set his burger back on the plate and took a closer look at Dr. McGready. “You must live nearby.”

“I do.”

“Any particular reason the Saturday staff couldn’t handle the situation?”

“Oh, I know they can. Can I tell you the truth? Mike’s story intrigues me, as does your part in it.”

“Mine?”

“Sure. Sharp Manhattan attorney knowingly hires a fraud, eventually gets caught, and then offers to do the fraud’s time in prison.”

Harvey didn’t know how to respond to that. It shouldn’t have shocked him to discover that Mike had told the whole story to this stranger. The secret they had shared for so long was no longer a secret, and the danger of revealing it no longer existed. Still, Harvey felt protective of their shared history, and couldn’t help his annoyance at the doctor’s casual summary of events.

“So? Is your curiosity satisfied?” asked Harvey.

“I asked Mike why you did it.”

“Did what?”

“Hired him.”

“What did he say?”

Dr. McGready snatched another fry from Harvey’s plate, chewed and swallowed. “He claimed it was some combination of his brilliance and your arrogance that decided you.”

“Huh. Sounds about right.”

“Do you know what I told him?”

“No, but I’m betting you’re about to tell me.”

The doctor stared at him for several unsettling seconds. “Nah. I’ll let him tell you himself. Where is he, by the way?”

“In his room. Said he wasn’t hungry. I was going to fix him a sandwich before I went back.”

“Good idea. Regular, healthy meals are one of the cornerstones of our treatment here.”

“You don’t say.”

“You know, Harvey, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to talk to both you and Mike together. Any objections to that?”

“None.” It sounded like an excellent idea. If Lipschitz had been able to mend the rift between himself and Louis, who knew what this guy could accomplish?

“Good. You finish up your lunch, and I’ll go on ahead and talk to Mike privately for a few minutes.”

Harvey waved a hand in a “go on” gesture, and then watched as the doctor exited the room. He sighed, eyed what was left of his lunch, pushed the tray away, and went to fix Mike’s sandwich.

 

 

******

 

When Harvey had gone, Mike slid off the bed and went to shut the door. He stood completely still, staring at the closed door, trying to come to a decision. Despite what he’d said to Harvey, he still blamed himself for Margot’s death.

He didn’t want to be here any longer. He also had no desire to go back to prison. What he wanted more than anything in that moment was to shoot up, to allow those sweet chemicals to flow into his bloodstream and blur out all the ugly edges of his life. He had no money, no way to get back to Seattle, but his months of being homeless had taught him to be resourceful. Once he left here, he’d figure it out. It might have been possible to sweet talk Harvey out of a few dollars, except that the rehab facility made it clear to visitors that they shouldn’t give money directly to the patients.

Was there something he could sell? His eyes tracked around the small room. None of the furnishings were portable. Even the bedside lamp was bolted to the wall. Some of his new clothes, maybe? He couldn’t get much for anything, except … His gaze landed on the beautiful new coat Harvey had brought him. The air seemed to thicken around him as he considered this. He walked toward the closet, heart pounding too hard inside his chest.

His hand went out to grasp the sleeve of the coat, and he froze like that, indecisive, feeling something like grief at what would be a complete betrayal of Harvey and everything Mike had just promised him.

In his two weeks here, he’d heard countless stories from his fellow patients of the myriad ways they’d hurt their loved ones, the lies they’d told, the money they’d conned out of them, the things they’d stole from them to feed their addiction of choice. Mike had felt a certain amount of what he knew to be misplaced pride that he’d done none of those things. Oh, sure, he’d cheated on Rachel, but that sort of behavior was not unique to addicts. Men and women cheated on their spouses every day. And maybe he’d lied to and manipulated a few people, but they were using him as much as he’d used them. He’d never count any of them among his “loved ones.”

Now, however, he was contemplating, with both calculation and malice aforethought, doing something which would not only hurt Harvey, but would likely destroy any remaining trust he had in Mike.

The moment felt big, important out of all proportion to the action he was considering. His hand tightened on the sleeve. He took another step and buried his face in the smooth, cool fabric, feeling the hood’s faux fur tickle his cheek.

All he had to do was grab the coat and run. Nobody guarded the exits in this place. He could be out the door and gone in less than a minute. He could catch a ride to Seattle, find a pawnshop, or a gullible tourist, and once he had the cash in his pocket, he knew exactly where to go to get what he needed.

He could imagine it all so clearly, could feel all that sweet, sweet dopamine flooding his brain, and euphoria spiking inside of him, driving away his anxiety and depression. It would be so easy. He could do this. He should do this. How wonderful would it be to numb himself, to stay numb and disconnected for whatever remained of his life?

And then the high would fade, the sickness return, and he’d be back to hustling for his next fix. Unless …

Margot had found a way out. He could too.

Mike breathed in and breathed out, breathed in and breathed out, and something inside of him broke with an almost audible _snap_.

His legs gave way. He crumpled to the ground, carrying the coat with him, landing on his side, entire body convulsed with huge, painful sobs. He pressed the coat against his face to muffle the sounds.

He lay that way for several minutes, so caught up in his own misery that he didn’t hear the light tap on the door. It was in this position that Dr. McGready found him.

When he realized he wasn’t alone, Mike sat up, letting go of the coat. He should have been embarrassed to be found that way. He _was_ embarrassed, but that feeling was overridden by relief at seeing Dr. McGready.

The doctor did not speak right away, waiting for Mike to stand, wipe the moisture from his face, and move to sit on the bed. Then the doctor pulled up a chair and stared fixedly at Mike, wearing a deadly serious expression.

“I’d ask you how your visit with Harvey is going, but it seems clear that some … _stuff_ came up.”

“Stuff. Yeah. You could say that.”

“So. Tell me.”

Mike sighed, and then launched into an abbreviated account of the past hour. He left nothing out, including his thoughts about leaving to get high.

“What changed your mind?”

“Who says it’s changed?”

“You’re still here.”

While Mike was mulling over a response to this, the door opened, and Harvey entered.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked.

Dr. McGready answered, “No, Harvey, please come in.”

Mike looked between the two of them. “Oh, so you’ve met already?”

“We ran into one another in the cafeteria.”

“I brought you a sandwich,” said Harvey, handing Mike a napkin-wrapped rectangle.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.” This came out sounding angrier than he’d intended. He could see by the affronted look on Harvey’s face that he was surprised by the aggression. “But thank you. I’ll save it for later.” He set the sandwich on the nightstand.

A silence that felt awkward stretched between them, until it was finally broken by Dr. McGready. “Please have a seat, Harvey. I’d like to chat with both of you for a few minutes.”

The doctor was sitting in the one chair in the room, so Harvey’s only choice was to share the bed with Mike, who slid over to make room for him. The mattress sank another half inch as Harvey sat next to him. Several inches separated them, but Mike imagined he could feel the heat rising off Harvey. After what Mike had almost done, he found he couldn’t look at Harvey. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on Dr. McGready.

“Mike was just telling me about what happened with Danny, and the excellent advice you gave him.”

Harvey grunted, shot Mike a sideways glance, and shrugged. “I just told him what he needed to hear.”

He sounded so smug – so Harvey-esque – that Mike had to struggle not to roll his eyes, or to blurt out that after Harvey’s “excellent advice,” he’d nearly fucked everything up. He wasn’t ready for that particular humiliating confession and could only hope that McGready wouldn’t rat him out.

Dr. McGready seemed to have other things on his mind.

“Mike, we’ll talk more about Danny and Margot in our private session Monday. Right now, I think it might be beneficial to dig into your relationship with Harvey.”

Next to him, Mike felt Harvey move restlessly, and figured he was just as uncomfortable as Mike was with the change of topic.

“I think,” said Mike slowly, “it would be more accurate to call it ‘history’. We have history. At one time Harvey was my boss. During a brief period when I left the firm, I was his boss. Over time, we became friends.” As he said the word out loud, it didn’t feel quite right. There had always been an undercurrent of tension threaded through their friendship. Part of that had been the secret they shared. Their friendship had been prickly, at best. Their mutual teasing, which had not always been so gentle, served to keep a certain emotional distance between them.

Now Mike had to wonder if the thing that kept them connected was some sort of zombie-loyalty, the revenant of what they’d once been to one another, that should have died off permanently when Mike moved to Seattle, but remained half-alive despite the drift that had occurred between them.

Again, Harvey shifted on the bed. Mike risked a look at him, to find him scowling down at his hands.

“Harvey?” asked McGready. “Is that an accurate assessment?”

“It’s an accurate enough summary, but it doesn’t fully communicate what we’ve been to one another over the years.”

“Let’s hear your take on it, then.”

Harvey sighed softly. “We were more than friends. We _are_ more than friends. I could say we’re family, and I believe that’s true, but there’s more to it than that. We have a connection, a … a …” Harvey’s scowled deepened and he shook his head in apparent frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe Mike doesn’t feel the same way.”

McGready jumped on these words. “Feel? How do you feel? Not about the ‘relationship’, but about one another.”

Neither spoke.

“Who wants to go first?”

Silence.

“I know we’re in scary territory here. Honesty isn’t always easy, but not for nothing do they say it’s the best policy. Harvey? I’d like you to turn, look Mike straight in the eyes, and tell him how you feel about him.”

Mike had the sudden urge to run from the room and keep on running. He knew what a disgusting human being he’d become, but the thought of hearing Harvey say as much alarmed him far more that he would have believed.

He didn’t run from the room. He did as McGready had requested and shifted on the bed so that he and Harvey faced one another. He watched as Harvey swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“How do I feel? I … I care about Mike. Obviously.”

“Dig deeper,” urged Dr. McGready.

Harvey’s eyes darkened. “I suppose you could say I love him.”

“Yes,” agreed the doctor, “I could say that. Could you?”

Harvey turned his gaze on Dr. McGready. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

McGready’s bushy white eyebrows lifted. “Of course not.” He tilted his head to one side, scrutinizing Harvey. “Would it surprise you to hear that I posited to Mike, in our session last week, that you loved him?”

“I don’t know. Should it?”

“You seem defensive, Harvey.”

Shaking his head, Harvey stood and moved to the window, twitching the curtain aside to stare out at the mix of rain and wet snow falling messily from the grey sky. “I thought we were here to dissect Mike, not me.”

“It’s a holistic approach. If you read the brochure – ”

“Ask him.” Harvey turned to glare at the McGready. His gaze flicked to Mike, and back to the doctor.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ask Mike how he feels about me. Tell him I want the truth, not a dry historical recap of the last eight years.”

“Tell him yourself.”

Mike had been watching the two of them fence back and forth while he pondered what Harvey meant when he said he loved Mike. It seemed they’d almost forgotten he was in the room, but now the spotlight was squarely back on him. “Uh,” he said intelligently.

“Well?” asked Harvey. “Let’s hear it. How do you feel about me?”

“I feel … I’m grateful to you.”

“Dig deeper,” said Harvey, and Mike wasn’t sure if he was mocking him, or Dr. McGready.

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s a cop out,” said Dr. McGready at the same time Harvey said, “Non-responsive.”

“Gotta love the double-teaming,” Mike groused under his breath.

Harvey moved back to the bed, squatted in front of Mike, and startled him by placing his hands on his knees. “We’ve been avoiding this since the day we met. What better chance do we have than right now? If the truth isn’t what either one of us wanted to hear, we can walk away from this and never see one another again. On the other hand …”

“What do you mean,” asked Mike, “by love?”

Harvey’s face twitched, as if in pain, but he stayed where he was, hands resting on Mike’s knees. He sucked in a breath, shoulders lifting and falling.

“I mean, Mike, that I love you. I’m in love with you. I … I denied it to myself for so long that it became second nature to ignore my feelings. You were with Rachel. End of story.” He shook his head, expression sad. “I’m telling you this now. What you choose to do with it is up to you. But –” One side of his mouth crooked up in a weak attempt at a smile. “I’d really like to know if you feel the same way. Yes or no. I’ll accept whatever you tell me. If it’s no – ”

“It’s not no,” blurted Mike, before he could stop himself. He felt Harvey’s hands tighten on him. “But it’s not yes either. It’s …” He glanced at McGready, and then back to Harvey. “I don’t know. My head …” He lifted a hand to wave it to one side of his head. “It’s not right. I’m confused about … well, pretty much everything right now.” He stopped to take a couple of calming breaths. “We’re being honest here, though, so I’ll admit that I’ve had feelings for you over the years that weren’t brotherly, and were more than what one friend feels for another.”

Daring much, he placed his hands over Harvey’s. He couldn’t tell which one of them was trembling. Maybe they both were.

“How’s this for honesty? The night before I went to prison, after our fight, I came close to crawling across the few feet that separated us and just kissing the shit out of you. The next day, I told Rachel I was canceling the wedding for her sake, and that was mostly true, but it was also because of you.”

“Mike …”

“Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s lust. Maybe it’s both. The feelings are there, but there’s no way we can act on them. I mean, just look at me. Look at you, for fuck’s sake. I’m … I’m broken, Harvey. These folks here are trying to Humpty Dumpty me back together, but I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, what terrible decisions I’ll make. I’m holding on by my fingernails here. And that’s not even factoring Rachel into the whole equation. I don’t know if still have a chance with her. Whether I do or I don’t, I’m not the sort of person you deserve. You see that right?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he had to stop talking to keep from humiliating himself by bursting into desperate tears.

“It’s not about deserving or not deserving,” said Harvey. “It’s about love. Full stop. You made a mistake and it spiraled out of control. That doesn’t make you a bad person. You aren’t alone in this. The statistics on opioid addiction in America prove that. You have a disease, and if you think for one second that I’d walk away from you when you’re ill, you don’t know me very well.”

Mike didn’t know what to say to that. It felt as if he’d reached his limits of honest talk. His cheek throbbed where Danny had hit him. His stomach twisted with anxiety. Shooting a helpless look at Dr. McGready, he wondered how soon he could send Harvey away, and hated himself for such an uncharitable thought directed at the only person in the world who still cared about him without being paid to do so.

McGready evidently picked up on what Mike was feeling. He clapped his hands together once. “Great work, you two. You’ve both taken a big leap here today, and that’s wonderful. I think the best thing to do right now is for both of you to take a step back, retreat into your own corners, so to speak, and think about what you’ve learned and how to move forward from here. Harvey, will you be around tomorrow?”

Harvey rose to his feet and moved away from Mike. “No. I’m booked on a return flight tonight.”

The strength of Mike’s disappointment upon hearing this surprised him. Had he really expected Harvey to come back tomorrow? Hard upon the heels of that thought came rising panic. Was this the end of them? Was Harvey walking away for good?

“I see,” said Dr. McGready. “Mike? I’m told you’re planning to return to New York once your four weeks are completed.”

Before Mike could reply, Harvey answered for him. “He is. I’ll arrange to have his airline ticket delivered here, along with some traveling money. Once he gets back, he’ll be staying with me.”

A surge of gratitude nearly drowned Mike’s panic. The thought of being let out back into the world, though, with money in his pocket and no one looking over his shoulder … That terrified him. He couldn’t trust himself. Why would anybody else trust him with that?

McGready was talking again. “Having a support system is so important, especially in these beginning stages of recovery.” He looked at Mike. “Is there anything else you want to say, or to ask Harvey, before he leaves?”

Mike shook his head.

“Harvey? What about you?”

“I’d like to speak with Mike privately, if that’s all right?”

“Of course. Of course.” The doctor stood, and extended his hand, which Harvey shook. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

When McGready left the room, Mike and Harvey were left to stare awkwardly at one another.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” said Harvey.

“None of this changes anything.”

“Not today. Not immediately. But Dr. McGready is right. We both need time to process.” His expression held a very un-Harvey-like expression of uncertainty. “I hope you’ll still come stay with me, regardless of what you decide. If we go forward as friends, and nothing more, I believe I could reconcile myself to that.”

Mike wasn’t so sure that he could. How could they return to what they’d been before, after what had been revealed here today? He didn’t say as much. He needed to get back to New York, and wouldn’t take the chance that Harvey would withdraw his offer if Mike seemed less than enthusiastic about a future with Harvey.

And really, it wasn’t as if he disliked the idea. He liked it. A lot. He just didn’t, at his core, believe it was possible. Still, it was going to hurt like hell to see Harvey walk out the door. Mike decided to stall.

“Do you want to stay and watch that movie? It should be starting right about now. I think they’re showing _Gladiator_ today.”

“Manly men brandishing swords and fighting it out to the death in the Colosseum? Tempting, but I think I’m going to have pass.” He crossed the room and took a seat next to Mike on the bed, draping an arm over his shoulders. “You’re going to be okay, Mike.”

Mike might have argued with his assertion, but he was worn out by everything had happened that day. “Sure,” he replied, voice flat.

“They letting you use the phone now?”

“At certain times of the day, yes.”

“If you need to talk to someone besides Grace or Dr. McGready in the next two weeks, give me a call. I promise that if I can pick up, I will. You’re not alone in all of this. I’ve got your back.”

Nodding, Mike gave Harvey a smile he hoped looked natural. “Thanks. I know that you do.”

Harvey tightened his hold, and went so far as to let his fingers brush along Mike’s bicep. “Would you mind, before I leave, if I, just this once …”

“What?”

Harvey swallowed audibly and winced. “Nothing. Never mind.” He stood up. “I should go. We’ll talk in a few days, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Mike had been certain that Harvey was about to kiss him. Instead, he couldn’t seem to get out of there fast enough. “Want me to walk you out?”

“No. I can find my way. Stay here and eat your sandwich. Go see that movie. And don’t forget to give Grace your statement.”

“Sure. Yes, to all of that.”

Mike stood to face Harvey.

“Well,” said Harvey. “I’ll see you soon.”

Harvey took a step toward the door. Mike placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “I just wanted to say … I want you to know ...” Mike sucked in a quick breath. “I’m trying here, I really am. But if something happens, if for some reason I don’t make it to the end of the month, you have to know that it’s not your fault.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Why wouldn’t you make it?”

“I’m not saying that I won’t.”

Harvey’s hands dug into Mike’s upper arms as he stared at him, eyes dark with emotion. “You are going to make it. You’re going to beat this.”

“Harvey …”

“No. I don’t want to hear another word about it. You’re going to complete your four weeks here, and then you’re coming home, and we’re going to do whatever it takes to get you on your feet again. Understood?”

Mike shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of Harvey’s stern words, or his touch. He nodded dumbly.

“Good,” said Harvey. He let go of Mike, hesitated, and then cupped the side of his neck and dipped closer for a quick, close-mouthed kiss. “Eat your damn sandwich.” He turned and walked out the door.

Mike stood, frozen in place for a full minute. Finally, he lifted his hand to touch his mouth.

_Holy fuck,_ was all he could think. _Harvey Specter just kissed me._


	5. Chapter 5

**New York, Two Weeks Later**

 

Over a year since he left New York and flew to Seattle with Rachel. Mike sat on another airplane, watching the distant, once seemingly unobtainable high-rises of Manhattan grow larger and larger below him. The plane descended over Brooklyn and Queens, the landing gear ground open, and the plane touched down at JFK, a smooth, flawless landing. They taxied to the gate and the engines cut off, but Mike still felt as if he was vibrating, cruising at thirty-five thousand feet, suspended between one past and another, his future uncertain.

As promised, Harvey had paid for his ticket, but had surprised him by placing him in first-class. As much as he appreciated the gesture, he almost wished he’d been seated in the far back of the plane, so he would have had more time to adjust to the idea of being home again. Instead, he was one of the first to be let off the plane.

He grabbed his one piece of luggage, a gym bag with his clothes and not much else, shrugged into the coat Harvey had given him, and did what the counsellors in rehab had been teaching him to do for the past four weeks: put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.

While in the air, he’d almost felt as if he was going to be okay. The cravings had left him, but only temporarily as it turned out. Until they reached their destination, there was no chance he could satisfy those cravings. Now, entering the terminal, he was far too aware of the nearly two hundred dollars still in his pocket. He didn’t know the local dealers like he had in Seattle, but if the coffee cart where he’d bought his pot didn’t sell harder stuff, the owner likely knew who did. How easy it would be to take a cab downtown and …

Once again, Harvey surprised him. He’d come to the airport in person to meet Mike. There he was, standing near the luggage carousels, hands in his pockets, having already picked out Mike with his steady gaze.

Mike lifted a hand to wave at him, and even with all of the darkly chaotic emotions swirling inside him he couldn’t prevent the smile that curved his lips. He made his way over to Harvey and stopped in front of him. They took stock of one another. 

“Welcome back,” said Harvey. His smile was wide and easy, the balm Mike hadn’t known he needed.

Mike nodded, and then looked away, feeling an awkwardness he hadn’t anticipated. With his gaze averted, he didn’t see him coming, and so was taken off guard when Harvey wrapped him up in a hug. Mike froze, and then belatedly raised his own arms to return the hug.

The crowd of debarking passengers surged around them, splitting to either side and reforming once they’d passed. Harvey’s arms tightened, and Mike wanted nothing more than to burrow into him, to attach himself to him and never let go. That wasn’t possible, though. Too soon, they stepped apart.

Mike found himself remembering Harvey’s kiss from two weeks ago. His heart beat a little faster as he imagined what it might be like if Harvey wrapped his arms around him again and kissed him until they were both dizzy. Evidently that was not going to happen.

Harvey’s hand rested lightly on Mike’s lower back for the briefest of moments, guiding him toward the exit.

“I got you a phone,” said Harvey, handing a small box to Mike. “You’re on my plan for as long as you need to be. And I want you to take this.” He passed an American Express card over. “Buy yourself some new clothes and whatever else you need. Don’t worry about the cost.”

Mike found himself tongue-tied by all this unexpected largesse. He walked numbly beside Harvey, despising himself for wondering if drug dealers accepted Amex. No, he decided, they most definitely did not, and it didn’t matter anyway, because he wasn’t going down that road again. He knew where it led, and it was a place he did not want to be.

He knew himself to be weak, though. Weak and susceptible. Which is why, when they were seated in Harvey’s Lexus a few minutes later, Mike dug the cash out of his pocket and offered it to Harvey.

“What’s this?” asked Harvey, frowning. “That’s yours.”

It was humiliating to admit it, but Harvey deserved the truth. “I don’t think I should be carrying that much cash right now. I mean, I’m not planning to backslide, but you can maybe guess how it is. I’d rather not tempt fate.”

Harvey had frozen in the act of putting on his seatbelt to give Mike a hard stare. He clicked the buckle into place, concentrating on backing out of his parking spot and maneuvering his way out of the parking structure. When they’d made it onto the main road, he spoke again.

“Whatever you think is best.”

Mike eyes stung at what sounded like a calculated distance in Harvey’s voice. Had Mike disappointed him again already? “It’s not like … I’m not on the verge of anything. I just need to stay vigilant and sort of … I don’t know … sort of me-proof my life.”

A sharp sideways glance from Harvey, followed by a huff of laughter. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“You thought I was just on a four-week vacation? Not even close. Much of that time was spent learning the hows and whys of addiction and recovery. I’ve got a whole new game plan, a whole new vocabulary.”

“That’s great, Mike.” With that, he accepted the money from Mike and tucked it into his coat pocket.

The level of relief Mike felt at being rid of that temptation was enormous. For the first time since he’d stepped off the plane, he relaxed. As they hit the expressway and began the trip back to Manhattan, he allowed himself to drink in the familiar surroundings. He’d liked Seattle well enough, for the first few months at least, but it had never felt like home. This place though, this was home. His body seemed to recognize that at its most basic level.

The soft R&B drifting through the speakers relaxed him further. Before they even reached the bridge, he was asleep.

 

******

 

Harvey had planned to take Mike straight from the airport to his favorite steakhouse for a welcome back dinner. When he saw how quickly he nodded off, and how exhausted he looked, even in repose, he quickly altered his plans and headed for home.

After navigating through the usual heavy traffic, the car came to a stop in Harvey’s parking spot underneath the building. He switched off the engine and watched as Mike came awake, yawning and blinking.

“We’re here already?”

“Let’s get you upstairs.” Harvey grabbed Mike’s bag and led the way.

As they entered his condo, he opened his mouth to offer Mike a drink, but managed to bite back on the words before they left his mouth. He didn’t know if Mike was allowed alcohol, or would allow himself that, but Harvey didn’t wish to encourage him.

Instead, he asked, “What have you been craving?” He winced as he heard the words hang in the air between them, full of unintended meaning. “Food, I mean. What were you unable to get in Seattle, that you’ve missed?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Seattle isn’t exactly a backwater. They have lots of great restaurants.”

“Then what are you in the mood for?”

Mike appeared to think about it for a few seconds. “Spaghetti Bolognese from that place down the block we used to order from.”

“Lucia’s?”

“That’s the one. Hey, do you mind if I take a shower? I smell like plane.”

“Go for it.”

He watched Mike walk down the hall and into the bathroom. It all seemed so comfortable and familiar, having Mike here. He’d stayed with Harvey before, on several memorable occasions. So much had happened between then and now. They’d both changed, Mike even more than him. After what they’d revealed to one another in the rehab facility, their relationship had changed, hadn’t it? Why, then, were they both behaving as if this was just business as usual? Maybe he should have just kissed Mike at the airport and gotten it over with.

Harvey placed the call to Lucia’s, debated pouring himself a glass of scotch, and decided on water instead. He settled into his armchair, turned on the television, and scrolled through Netflix, searching for something they could enjoy together. He selected a historical drama and waited for Mike to return.

The buzzer rang at the same time that Mike emerged from the bathroom, clad in pajamas, damp hair curling on his head. He’d shaved off his beard, and the difference in appearance from a few minutes ago was so startling that Harvey nearly tripped. This was the Mike he remembered, or at least a reasonable facsimile. With his recent weight loss, he could almost have been that feckless kid who had stumbled into the interview room at the Chilton. The shadows in his eyes gave him away, along with the new hardness to his expression, even underneath his rare smiles.

The buzzer sounded again and Harvey went to pay for dinner.

Mike nodded off again in the middle of episode two of _The Last Kingdom_. Harvey covered him with a blanket and went to bed. He hadn’t pestered Mike with questions about his future, and wouldn’t for a while, but he had cleared his early morning schedule so that they could talk about some things that Mike needed to hear.

 

******

 

“Oh, God,” Mike moaned, joining Harvey at the breakfast bar, “please tell me that coffee has caffeine in it.”

Harvey chuckled. Mike’s hair stood in messy tufts on his head, and a crease had been pressed into his face from a seam on the blanket. “Did they deprive you of that in rehab?”

“They deprived us of everything. Caffeine. Sugar. Drugs. Alcohol. And yet they still let anyone who wanted to, smoke like a damn chimney.”

“I guess everyone has to pick their battles.” He set a mug of coffee in front of Mike. “Fully caffeinated,” he assured him. “Would you like some real sugar to go with that?”

Mike’s smile was only slightly crooked. “Nah. I figure I might keep on with most of this new leaf thing for a while. Healthy food. Exercise. Clean living.” He took a drink of coffee. “But you’ll have to drag this coffee from my cold, dead hands.”

Sharp pain pierced Harvey at Mike’s choice of words, but he managed a smile in response. He waited until after Mike had taken a few sips, and the fuzziness of sleep in his eyes was replaced by the acute intelligence he remembered. Harvey would have preferred to postpone this conversation, but Mike needed to know where his marriage stood. He’d phoned Rachel yesterday to let her know that Mike was coming home.

She’d passed along the message that she would like to meet with Mike as soon as he was settled. Harvey guessed this had to do with the divorce papers she’d mentioned a few months ago, but that was between her and Mike, so all he said now was, “Rachel wants to see you.”

Mike’s gaze snapped up to meet Harvey’s. “She knows I’m back?” His brow furrowed. “You’ve been talking to her?”

“Not that often. I told you I’d seen her here in Manhattan, spoken to her.”

Mike’s eyes clouded as he seemed to search for the memory. “Oh. Did she say why she wants to see me?”

The look of cautious hope on Mike’s face was almost painful to witness. He debated whether or not to warn Mike, but since he didn’t know for certain that she was still set on serving the papers, he decided to keep that conversation to himself. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. If staying married to Rachel would make Mike happy, shouldn’t Harvey be hoping for that outcome?

But, no. He was not hoping for that outcome at all. Not even a little bit.

Harvey shrugged, doing his best to appear both uninformed and unconcerned. “I’ll text you her new number. I’m sure you have plenty to discuss with one another.”

Mike nodded. “If she agrees to it, is it all right if I invite her to come here?”

“That’s fine. Consider this your home. I should get out of here and get to work.” He frowned, weighing his next words. “If you’re not busy tonight, I thought I could take you out and get you a steak dinner.”

Mike’s eyes had lit with a muted sort of excitement. As much as Harvey would have liked to believe that was a result of the dinner invitation, he guessed it had more to do with the prospect of seeing Rachel again. This was confirmed when Mike replied, “Maybe. I’ll have to see how things go with Rachel.”

Did Mike even remember the things they’d confessed to one another at the rehab facility? Did he remember the kiss? No, scratch that. Of course he remembered. Perhaps he regretted all of it, and had chosen to pretend it had never happened. If that was true, Harvey supposed he’d have to go along with it, at least until he saw which way the wind was blowing with regard to the future of Rachel and Mike’s marriage.

 

******

 

Mike had assumed that Rachel wouldn’t be able to get away during the day, and would come over some evening when she happened to be free. As it turned out, when he texted her after Harvey left, she immediately texted back, saying she’d grab a cab and be right over.

It took her half an hour to arrive, which gave him ample time to work himself into a roiling panic about seeing her again. He’d conveniently dismissed from his mind the circumstances of the last time they’d laid eyes on one another. That was the day all the secrets he’d been keeping from her came spilling out into the harsh, unforgiving light of day.

Except, it wasn’t the light that was unforgiving, so much as his wife, who’d promised to stay with him forever, no matter what. Not that he blamed her for leaving.

His brain decided to torture him now by recalling the scene in detail. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten together with Seth, but he’d never been bold – or stupid – enough to bring him to the apartment before. He hadn’t expected Rachel to come home in the middle of the day. She’d left a file behind that she needed for a deposition scheduled for that afternoon. Finding them in bed together, with the needle prepped and ready to go, she’d frozen for several heartbeats, eyes wide, and finally managed to choke out past rising tears, “We are so done,” before disappearing.

After she’d stormed out, and with the contents of the needle flowing pleasantly through his veins, Mike told himself that she was the one at fault for showing up unannounced like that. Many months later, in rehab, they’d explained to him that this was simply another example of his addiction convincing him of things which weren’t true, in order to keep him firmly in its grip.

The buzzer sounded, announcing her arrival, and he nearly lost his nerve. With his heart pounding in his chest, he forced himself to pick up the handset and confirm with the doorman that she was expected, and to open the door to let her in when she arrived half a minute later.

Her appearance shocked him – not because she wasn’t as perfectly put together as always. She was gorgeous, chic, dressed with exquisite taste. What made him freeze with surprise was her hair. It had been chopped off and styled close to her head in an almost careless manner. It suited her perfectly, but also made her seem even more of a stranger than the cool calculation in her eyes.

“You look – “ he began, at the same time she said, “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Mike opened the door wider and stepped out of the way.

Inside the condo, Rachel hesitated, as if debating with herself, and then set down her slim briefcase and shrugged out of her coat. Mike took it from her and hung it on the coat rack near the door.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want some,” he offered.

“Sure. That’s fine.” With a delicate frown on her face, she picked up the briefcase and followed him to the kitchen.

While Mike prepared a mug for her, and added more coffee to his own, he could hear her behind him, settling herself on one of the stools. When he turned around, holding both mugs, he nearly spilled the contents as his gaze went straight to the stack of papers she’d set on the counter in front of her. It was a quarter of an inch thick, neatly fastened in one corner with a black binder clip. He placed her coffee next to it and sat down across from her.

“What’s that?” he asked, even though he already had a strong suspicion.

“Didn’t Harvey tell you?” Her emphasis on Harvey’s name was noticeable, and contained more than a hint of acid.

“Tell me what?”

She sighed and folded her hands over the document, seeming resigned to holding an actual conversation with him before she dropped the hammer. Maybe she was just stalling. “How are you, Mike? I hear you made it through rehab.”

“I did.”

“Congratulations. That’s great.” She spoke with almost painful politeness, as if addressing a near stranger.

Mike frowned, feeling coffee churn in his gut. “It’s … a process. Look, Rachel, I know I owe you an apology, and that it’s long overdue.”

Her expression, which had not been open to begin with, closed off even more. “That’s not necessary. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“No. It matters. I cheated on you.”

“And lied to me, and destroyed everything we were trying to build together. Then, when you were arrested and needed help, you didn’t call me. You called Harvey.”

It felt as if his stomach had dropped three feet. “You know about the arrest?”

Her mouth curved into a tight, pinched mockery of a smile. “And I know what for, too. Real classy.”

“Harvey told you?” The sting of that betrayal was nearly as painful as the shame of Rachel knowing he’d been arrested for solicitation.

“No.” She gave an annoyed sounding huff. “Not Harvey. There’s this thing called the internet. Arrests and charges are listed online. That’s right. I figured you’d turn up eventually.”

He had half a second to feel hope at this evidence that she still cared, when she dashed that hope by tapping the document in front of her.

“I need your signature on these divorce papers so I can put this episode behind me and get on with my life.”

As she continued to tap on the papers with her left hand, his gaze was drawn to her ring finger. A single, showy diamond adorned it, not the wedding ring set he’d given her. This was obviously an engagement ring, and from the looks of it, it was worth perhaps ten times the one he’d been able to afford.

Time froze, along with his insides. She’d found someone else. She was moving on, and there would be no opportunity for reconciliation. The finality of it hit him like the single, weighty blow of a sledgehammer.  The pain, excruciating as it was, lasted for only a few seconds before fading into a lingering, dull ache. This was it. What he’d once imagined to be the worst thing had come to pass. They were over.

He felt no instinct to protest, to plead and rail at her, or to beg her for another chance. Beneath the numbness, the primary feeling he recognized was relief, and he realized that part of him had feared a reconciliation might have led him straight back down the rabbit hole. He didn’t blame her for his addiction. That seductive notion had been drummed out of him during the first week in rehab. Still, recreating the place in his life where it all started seemed like an enormous risk, like one of the triggers about which he’d been warned.

Rachel seemed to be waiting for some sort of blow-up from him. She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, giving herself a cynical, guarded appearance. He wasn’t certain what was in his own eyes. He wasn’t angry, or shocked or … _anything,_ really, but she stood slowly and backed away from the counter, taking her briefcase and leaving the papers where they were.

She ran the fingers of one hand through her short hair, the only sign of nerves she’d exhibited thus far. “There’s a return envelope on the bottom. After you’ve read and signed the papers, you can just drop it in the mail. If you have any questions, please direct them to my attorney.” Her brow wrinkled, as if she wanted to say something more, but couldn’t think what. Recollection sparked in her eyes and she reached into her pocket and pulled out what he recognized as her old wedding and engagement rings. She held them in her hand, staring down at them as if reluctant to get close enough to him to hand them off.

Mike stood, but didn’t advance on her. She already looked ready to bolt at the slightest hint of aggression.

“Rachel,” he said carefully, “I’ve already said I’m sorry, and I am. I once thought we were the loves of one another’s lives. Maybe you did too. No, you don’t have to say anything. Even though I …" He stared up at the ceiling, searching for the right word. “Even though I fucking dynamited our marriage the way I did, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.” At the look of disbelief – or was it alarm? -- on her face, he held up his hands and smiled weakly. “Not like I did before. Not in a creepy stalker way.  Everything that went wrong is on me, one hundred percent. And you’re still the beautiful, perfect unicorn you always were.”

“Oh my God.” Rachel rolled her eyes, but he could see she was fighting a smile. “If that’s really the way you saw me, we were doomed no matter what, drugs or no drugs.”

“What? That’s not how you saw me?”

“No. I saw you as an impossible jerk who just happened to be persistent enough to get past my defenses.”

“I’ll be sure to use that in my e-Harmony profile.”

Her laugh was short and a bit harsh sounding. “Knowing you, it would probably work.” She breathed out noisily. “Look, you screwed up, and I’m not at a place yet where I can forgive you.”

“But …?”

“But I don’t hate you. I told myself I did, for months after I left. I just think …" She chewed her lip, head tilted to one side. “I think we both married the wrong person. Part of me knew it at the time, but I was caught up in the dream. You know, the childhood fantasy that every little girl supposedly has. The perfect wedding. The perfect marriage. The perfect life.” She laughed again. “All complete bullshit.”

“You’re going to try again, though?” He gave her left hand a meaningful look.

“Sure. I’m going to toss out that whole ‘perfect’ part and just aim for being happy, or failing that, not completely miserable.”

He nodded somberly. “Sounds like an excellent plan.” He stepped around the counter and moved to stand in front of her. “I wish you a not completely miserable life.” He gestured toward her cheek. “May I?”

Suspicion clouded her features, but after a moment’s hesitation, she gave a short nod. Given permission, Mike leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. It lasted for a second or two, and then he took one step back and curved his mouth into a sad smile.

“I’ll mail those papers tomorrow, I promise.”

“That’s fine.” She held the rings out to him and waited until he took them from her. “For what it’s worth, I wish you and Harvey a not completely miserable life, too.”

He nearly choked. “Me and Harvey? What are you talking about?”

She shook her head and walked toward the door. “For a supposed genius, you’re pretty thick sometimes.”

And then she was gone, and he was left standing alone with two useless rings, a pile of divorce papers to read, and the growing certainty that he’d wasted eight years chasing the wrong damn dream.

 

******

 

Mike was asleep on the couch, head back and legs stretched out straight in front of him, when Harvey got home around nine. Some edgy Netflix drama blared from the television, and half a cold pizza sat in its box on the coffee table. Harvey smiled. So much for healthy living.

A sheaf of papers rested on Mike’s chest. A couple of stray sheets had drifted to the floor.

Harvey clicked off the television and grabbed a slice of pizza, ignoring the congealed cheese, and wolfed it down. He’d skipped dinner, hoping he’d get away in time to take Mike out for the nice meal he’d promised. Too many crises and interruptions had kept him longer than anticipated, and he’d finally texted to let him know that they’d need to postpone.

Mike stirred and woke when Harvey sat next to him. More pages slipped to the floor. Mike blinked groggily at Harvey before leaning down to retrieve them.

“What are you reading?” asked Harvey. If Mike had contacted Rachel, and if she’d come over today, Harvey was pretty sure he knew the answer to that.

Mike reordered a few pages, tapped them into alignment, and held out a hand. “Got a pen?”

Harvey was still wearing his suit coat. He reached into his inner pocket, pulled out his Montblanc and handed it over to Mike. With brisk efficiency, Mike flipped through the document, initialed it in several places, and signed the last page.

“Feel free to read it yourself,” he told Harvey.

Taking pen and papers from Mike, Harvey glanced down at the top page, confirming he was holding divorce papers, and then studied Mike carefully. On the surface, he appeared to be handling the situation remarkably well. “I’ll read it if you want, to make sure Rachel’s not screwing you over.”

Mike sighed. “She’s not. It’s all very reasonable and equitable. With my half of the assets, plus the rings she just returned to me, I’ll have a decent nest egg for … something. I don’t know what yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Harvey said, and meant it, despite his selfishly personal stake in Mike becoming newly single. Harvey had witnessed the evolution of Mike’s relationship with Rachel, had seen how over the moon he was when she’d agreed to marry him, and how he’d practically levitated with happiness on their wedding day.

Mike dredged up a faded-looking smile in response. “I should have known this is how it would end. I did know, sort of, but it didn’t feel real. Not until now.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “She’s engaged to somebody else already. The diamond she’s wearing is as big as my left nut.”

Harvey let that sit there for a moment before asking, “What about the right one?” As flirting went, it was weak, but sometimes you take the openings you get.

Mike stared at him, opened his mouth, apparently thought better of what he’d been about to say, and shut it again.

After that, they sat up together for a while, finishing off the pizza and watching the rest of Mike’s show. Eventually, Harvey went to bed, while Mike made himself comfortable on the couch.

It had been a long day. Harvey was tired, but he was unable to fall asleep right away.  He couldn’t stop thinking of the possibilities now that Mike was free. More than that, he couldn’t stop remembering Mike’s response to his lame flirting, the way his eyes had darkened, and a light flush had stained his cheekbones.

Mike had been home more than a day, and neither of them had mentioned the too brief kiss they’d shared at the rehab facility. It was almost as if they both wanted to pretend it had never happened. No, that wasn’t true. Harvey didn’t want to pretend. He wanted another chance to give Mike a proper kiss that couldn’t be ignored.

The last time Mike stayed with him, Mike’s break from Rachel had only been temporary. This time, it would be permanent. Harvey had time to work on him, to wear down his defenses. Not that he’d be obvious about it. The last thing Harvey wanted to do was scare him off by coming on too strong.

On the other hand, he’d waited a long time for Mike. He’d try subtlety first, but if that didn’t work, he had plenty of other weapons in his arsenal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go. It may be a while before it's finished, since I'm hard at work on my auction story. (I like to multi-task, but probably 80% or more of my time will be focused on the auction story, because I believe I owe that to the person who won me.)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that my auction story is finished, I'm back to finish this thing. I'd thought one more chapter would do it, but decided to split it into two chapters. So, here is the penultimate chapter. I'm hoping to have the final one done by the end of the month.

“Did you go out today?”

Mike’s face took on the defensive look with which Harvey had become all too familiar the last few weeks. “I went to my meeting.”

Harvey nodded. He’d learned the hard way not to show too much interest or enthusiasm for Mike’s regular attendance at a nearby Narcotics Anonymous meeting. He was interested, and he was quietly enthusiastic, but Mike seemed determined to navigate his way through recovery entirely on his own.

Harvey opted for another, only slightly less treacherous topic. “Have you given any further thought to employment?”

“Anxious to get me out of here?”

“You know the answer to that.”

Lifting one eyebrow as if to indicate that he wasn’t sure, Mike said, “I looked at some things online.”

“If you need help putting together a resume – ”

“I don’t.”

“The offer to come back to the firm stands in perpetuity.”

“Hard pass.”

They’d had this conversation before, and it always led to the same dead end.

Harvey walked into the kitchen to browse the menus they kept in a drawer, remembered the app Mike had introduced him to, and pulled out his phone.  “What sounds good for dinner?”

“Get whatever you want. I had cereal earlier.”

“I’m ordering carne asada for both of us. You can either eat it now, or reheat it at midnight when you get up to prowl around.”

Mike opened his mouth, closed it again, and huffed in annoyance. “I don’t prowl.”

“Five nights in a row now, but who’s counting?” He opened the GrubHub app on his phone and placed the order.

“I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep.” Mike didn’t sound sorry.

“It’s fine.” He might have said more, might have asked Mike if he was okay, suggested he see a therapist, but he knew where that would lead. Another fight, and another day or more of twitchy, sullen silence from Mike.

Carrying his briefcase, Harvey moved into the living room and took his usual seat in the armchair across from Mike.

The couch, where Mike had been sleeping, still had a mound of crumpled sheets and blankets on one end. Harvey felt close to a blow-up over Mike’s habits and behavior, but was too weary at the moment to exert himself. Instead, he pulled out the documents he had brought home to review, pointedly ignoring Mike.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Mike was up and pacing the room. Prowling. Harvey eyed him covertly, noting the changes in him over the past few weeks. Mike had put on some weight, but it was mostly muscle mass, as he had been working out religiously every morning.

Having reached the far wall of the room, Mike spun on his heel and caught Harvey staring at him.

“What?” Mike asked, clearly annoyed.

“Nothing.” Harvey went back to perusing the document in his hand.

It was hard to concentrate, and not just because of Mike and his pacing (prowling). Harvey had spent most of the day avoiding Robert. The firm’s managing partner had sent Samantha to summon him that morning, and something in her tone and the sharp, amused look in her eyes had set off warning bells in his head. He’d had neither the time nor the inclination for another skirmish with Robert Zane. Whatever it was that Robert thought he’d done – or hadn’t done – could wait for tomorrow.

“So, never?”

Harvey looked up again, startled. “What?”

“I said, when are we going to talk about this?”

Frowning and a little confused, Harvey briefly wondered if Mike had been reading his mind. Then he remembered that he and Mike had that Big Unspoken Thing hanging between them. Evidently, Mike was finally ready to tackle it.

Harvey bit back a groan and considered pointing out that he’d been trying to talk about it for three weeks, and that Mike had been the one stonewalling. He’d grown accustomed to walking on eggshells around his houseguest, however, so he summoned patience, set his work aside, and gave Mike his full attention.

“Certainly,” he said. “Would you like to begin, or shall I?”

Mike glared at him, as if he hadn’t been the one to bring it up, and then stopped pacing and sat back down on the couch. “You kissed me. I kissed you. We said things to each other.”

“Correct on all counts.”

“And now it’s been a whole month – ”

“Three weeks, actually.”

“Three weeks? Is that all? Are you sure?”

“Is the precise number of days important to the discussion?”

With a frustrated sounding sigh, Mike started to stand again, seemed to think better of it, and sank back into his seat. “No. I suppose not. It’s just that … I don’t know. Say something.”

Although he’d had plenty of time to rehearse his speech, Harvey stumbled a little over his opening. “I, uh, in Seattle, that is, everything I said was true, but I’ve since come to realize that the timing is off. What I mean is, you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, emotionally speaking. You should probably work on yourself, and then maybe …" He trailed off as he saw the wounded look in Mike’s eyes. “I’m not saying never. I just … You seem …"

“I seem what?”

“Any little thing sets you off these days.”

“Sets me off?” Mike’s voice took on an angry edge.

“Yes. See? Case in point. No matter what I say, it’s not right.” Seeing the twist of Mike’s mouth, he hurried on. “It’s okay, though, and evidently quite normal when a person is in recovery.”

“Ha. Look who’s done his homework.”

Harvey wished he had something heavy in his hand, so he could throw it angrily onto the table. He had to settle for fixing Mike with a glare. “Right there. That nasty attitude of yours is the reason I’ve been waiting you out. I’ll happily talk about my fucking feelings all day long – don't look at me like that. I’m serious. I’ll talk about whatever you want, but not until you get past this chip on your shoulder, or whatever it is, which I would like to point out I absolutely do not deserve.”

“You deserve everything you get. We both know you ruined my life, and nothing you do will ever make up for that.”

The unfairness of this declaration – and the volume with which it was spoken – took Harvey’s breath away for a moment. When he could speak again, he choked out, “We both suffered a lack of judgement the day I hired you. I’ve lost plenty since then. But, sure, make this all about you, as usual.”

“You’re not the one who went to prison.”

“No, I’m just the person who offered to take your place. I’m the person who moved heaven and earth to get you out. And I’m the person who fought to have you admitted to the bar.”

“I’m the one who ended up in rehab.”

“Where they presumably taught you that you can’t lay your addiction at anyone else’s door. Yeah, I did my homework.”

“Reading about it isn’t the same as experiencing it. God, Harvey, you’ve had it so easy. You always have. You get up in the morning, throw on a suit and tie, and expect the rest of the world to just bend to your will.”

The only person he wished would bend to his will at the moment was Mike, but there didn’t seem to be much chance of that.

“Mike, what do you want from me? No, scratch that. What do you want, period? If anything was possible, what could this world do for you to make you happy?”

Mike seemed to think this over. “Anything? Will there be a time machine in this scenario for me to travel back in?”

“Focus on what’s ahead of you.” Harvey’s head began to pound. He was tired of arguing with Mike.

“That’s the problem. I can’t see anything ahead of me. I’ve lost everything.”

That hurt more than it should have, more than the burgeoning headache. Harvey was right there, sitting in front of him, offering him whatever he wanted if he would just take it, and yet Mike had “lost everything”.

Harvey was saved from having to reply when the buzzer sounded, signaling the arrival of dinner.

Once he’d paid for the food, he fixed himself a plate and retreated to his bedroom.

 

******

 

Robert Zane was waiting for Harvey in his office when he arrived the next morning, sitting in Harvey’s chair, behind Harvey’s desk.

Harvey briefly considered bolting back out the door, or perhaps executing a more dignified departure after mentioning a fictitious meeting for which he was late.

He stood his ground, glaring at the managing partner. “Are you lost?” he asked.

“No, Harvey, I’m not lost. I know exactly where my office is. It’s the big one on the corner with the plaque that says ‘managing partner’ underneath my name. Since you never deigned to answer my summons yesterday, I can only assume that it’s you who can’t navigate your way down the hallway.”

Giving in to the inevitable, Harvey flopped down on the couch and stared across the room at Robert, waiting for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

“How long,” Robert finally began, voice low and deadly calm, “has my ex-son-in-law been living with you?”

“Mike’s fine, thanks for asking.”

“I don’t give a shit how Mike is.”

“Look, I know he broke Rachel’s heart, but –”

“But nothing. There’s been something wrong with that boy since I first met him. The fake lawyer business … well, I won’t say I ever understood that, or even forgave him, but for the sake of my daughter I managed to work around it. And now? Now he’s an unemployed junkie.”

“Recovering.”

“A junkie. He cheated on Rachel, and then he hit rock bottom and kept falling.”

“He had a rough patch, but he’s working his ass off to get his life back together.”

“Good. Let him get his life back together. Just not at your place.”

“Robert, I don’t see –”

“No, you never do where he’s concerned.” Robert stood, moved from behind the desk, and crossed the room to sit next to Harvey. “I’ve always considered myself a rational man, grounded in reality, but right now I feel like I can see straight into the future. You know what I see? I see Mike moping around on your couch for another couple of weeks, and then agreeing to come back to work with you. That’s right, Harvey. I know you. I know you’ve been trying to get him to come back from the moment he stepped off the plane.

“So, let’s say he finally says yes. He comes back to work and everything is fine for a while. Then, I give it three weeks, tops, before he gets full of himself again, and cuts some corner or overplays his hand. You go full out defending him and possibly pull his ass out of the fire by cutting corners of your own. Then my firm is vulnerable, and around and around we go.”

“Your firm?”

“That’s right. And let me tell you something, Harvey. Jessica Pearson may have put up with your bullshit for all those years, buy I will not. Mike Ross is a disease, and you are patient zero. I won’t have the two of you infecting the rest of my firm.”

Harvey shook his head, jaw working. “Nice words for your top earner.”

Robert let out an inelegant snort. “Have you read our quarterly earnings report? Apparently not, which should surprise me but doesn’t. If you had, you’d see that Samantha, Louis, and Katrina all surpassed you, and Alex wasn’t far behind.”

Harvey might have pointed out that he’d been out of town, dealing with Mike, but that would only help prove Robert’s case. “What is your point?” he asked wearily. “Where is this all leading?”

“I’m calling for a vote.”

“What?”

“Will you agree to cut all ties with Mike?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it would seem that you are a clear and present danger to this firm, and you need to go.”

Harvey gaped at him. “You’re out of your goddamned mind. You don’t have the votes.”

“I have Sam.”

“I have Louis.”

“I have Katrina.”

Harvey smiled thinly. “And I have Alex. That makes it a tie, which, according to the by-laws, is the same as a no vote.”

Robert smiled back at him, smug and wolfish. “Are you so sure about Alex?”

“Alex is my guy.”

“He might not feel the same way, considering all those unkept promises of yours. People tend to remember those things. And let’s not forget his track record with Mike. As I recall, they butted heads more than once. He wasn’t too pleased when I told him Mike might be returning.”

“You’ve already discussed this with the partners?”

“Sure. I needed to take their temperature before going ahead with this.”

“Robert, come on. This is absurd. Mike doesn’t even want to come back.”

“You’ve been working on him though, trying to convince him. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Harvey sat back, trying to absorb what Robert was telling him. “Fuck,” he muttered, and then laughed bitterly. “Well, no one can say that you won’t go the distance to get revenge for your daughter.”

“Sure, that’s part of it, but only a small part. Mostly, this is about protecting my firm.” He sighed, and his expression softened slightly. “If you think I’m happy about any of this, you’re wrong. Maybe you don’t see it, but everybody else does. Where Mike Ross is concerned, you’ve got a blind spot a mile wide. Consider this vote a wake-up call. Cut him loose, before he drags you down with him.”

“Have you scheduled the vote yet?”

Robert nodded grimly. “I’ve called for an emergency meeting of the partnership for tonight at six-thirty.”

“Thanks for advance notice.”

“Hey, I tried to tell you yesterday, but you decided to play your little game of hide and seek.”

Harvey considered several scathing replies but opted to remain silent instead.

Robert heaved himself to his feet. “Guess I’ll see you tonight.”

He left Harvey’s office.

 

******

 

Mike suffered through another long, lonely day. He thought about attending another meeting, but got lazy at the last minute.

It wasn’t really laziness, just a feeling that every minute he spent away from the protective sanctuary of Harvey’s condo was another minute that brought him closer to relapsing. It seemed wrong, somehow, that nearly two months after his last fix, he was still white knuckling his way through every day.

He knew he was a lousy houseguest. He regretted his outbursts directed at Harvey, who had done nothing to deserve his anger. It was as if there was this vast reservoir of rage simmering inside him, and he could only hide it for so long. It burst out of him these days at the worst possible moments.

Between the rage, and the cravings, and his deepening depression, he felt paralyzed. He needed to move past this and get on with his life, but he had no clue how to accomplish that. So, he read, and watched television, and slept, anything to anesthetize himself against his feelings.

After his latest fight with Harvey, he vowed, once again, to be kinder, more empathetic, less angry. He knew himself well enough that he was aware this new leaf (which he turned over at least once a week) wouldn’t last for long, but maybe he could do something to make it up to Harvey, to show him he was sorry for his latest explosion. With this in mind, he gathered his courage and left the condo to head to the neighborhood store for groceries. His culinary skills might be limited, but he did make an excellent marinara sauce. Couple that with a tossed salad, and a fresh loaf of bread, and you had a decent enough apology meal.

 

******

 

When Harvey hadn’t arrived home by seven-thirty, Mike texted him. There was no reply.

At eight-thirty, Mike sat down and ate by himself, feeling the familiar resentment already beginning to build in his gut once again.

As he chewed and swallowed, he considered ways he could show Harvey … show him what, exactly? How serious he was about being angry, lost, and depressed? Or maybe he wanted to demonstrate what a hopeless case he was, in order to force Harvey to cut him loose.

He could recreate the scene that had sent Rachel racing for the exit. How hard could that be? This was New York City, after all. He could ask down at the neighborhood store for drugs. Someone had to know someone who knew someone who was dealing. And a willing partner for meaningless sex was as close as the nearest bar.

That would show Harvey … that would show him … show him what?

Mike pictured the scene in his mind. He’d bring the random stranger to Harvey’s bed, prepare the hypo, and Harvey would walk through the door, and then he’d see. He’d see everything.

He’d see how broken Mike was. How worthless and dirty he was. He’d order him to leave, cut him out of his life like the brown, rotten spot on a piece of fruit.

Mike set down his fork carefully, barely aware of the tears that tracked slowly down his cheeks. He wiped them away and covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t do that to Harvey, _wouldn’t_ do that to Harvey.

He’d remain stuck, then – they both would – in this torturous holding pattern, never advancing, never going back. Who would crack first, he wondered? He knew the answer to that, since he’d cracked long ago, and continued to splinter apart.

Maybe the thing to do was disappear again, this time for good.

His phone rang, and he jumped. He thought there could only be one person calling him, but when he walked to the living room to pick it up, he didn’t recognize the number on the screen. It was a local area code. With a shrug, he answered the phone.

 

******

 

_Déjà vu all over again_ , thought Mike as he entered the shabby interview room and sat down across from Harvey. He was still dressed in suit and tie, slumped in the plastic chair, head bent almost to his chest. When he heard Mike come in, he lifted his head, putting his cut and bruised face on full display. There was a small rip in the breast pocket of his suit coat.

Mike’s steps faltered, and then he continued walking and took a seat across from Harvey.

“What’s the other guy look like?” he asked

Harvey gave a half smile which contained not a single drop of humor. “That’s funny, because …”

“Because?”

Harvey looked at the table, the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but at Mike.

“You called me because you needed a lawyer. I’m still a member of the New York Bar. You may as well start talking because I’m not going anywhere until you do. How about we begin with, what in the ever-loving fucking hell happened?”

Harvey sighed. “It’s an age-old story. Managing partner pisses of senior partner. Senior partner takes a swing at managing partner. Managing partner’s attack dog high kicks senior partner in the face. Senior partner is arrested for battery.”

“Managing partner’s …” Robert Zane was the managing partner, and his “guy,” his person, or consigliere or whatever, was Samantha Wheeler. Sam. “You’re telling me that Harvey Specter got beat up by a girl?”

There was nothing funny about it, and he wasn’t laughing, but Harvey scowled at him and muttered, “I swear to God, Mike.”

“What happened? How did Robert piss you off?”

Harvey said nothing. His scowl deepened and once again he couldn’t seem to make eye contact with Mike.

“Ah. This had something to do with me, didn’t it?”

“Right. Because everything has something to do with you. Everything is all about you these days.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

This prompted a choked laugh from Harvey. “That is a terrible idea.”

“Then what –”

“I want you to get me out of here. I want to go home.”

“Okay. Night court starts in half an hour. I’m told it’s a slow night. With any luck, I can get you off with just a fine.”

Harvey grumbled something in response which didn’t sound much like gratitude, but Mike let it go.

 

******

 

After the cab dropped them off at home, and they rode the elevator upstairs in silence, Harvey made a beeline for the kitchen, grabbed a full bottle of scotch and a glass, stomped into his bedroom and shut the door. He didn’t slam it, but the soft _snick_ of the wood fitting into frame sounded as loud as a slam to Mike’s ears.

Mike considered searching for a bottle of his own, but immediately rejected that idea. Something was going on with Harvey, and at least one of them needed to keep their wits about them.

They’d been at central booking for most of the night, and the sun would be coming up soon. Mike was too wired to sleep, so he started a pot of coffee and paced while it brewed, trying to put together the few pieces of the puzzle that Harvey had shared.

There’d been some sort of drama at the firm. Nothing new there. That firm had always been a veritable soap opera, at least since Mike had been there. This time it had been a blow-up between Harvey and Robert, which may or may not have centered around Mike. Now here was Harvey, getting drunk and evidently not planning to go to work on a Wednesday. Mike couldn’t remember the last time Harvey had missed a day of work.

He thought of all that Harvey had done for him in the past couple of months, all that he had done for him in the past eight years. This was his opportunity to repay some of that, but he had to tread lightly. He couldn’t fuck this up.

He poured himself a mug of coffee and considered the problem. What he needed was more information.

An hour later, showered, shaved, and dressed in a suit which hung a bit too loosely on him, he headed out the door.

 

******

 

Louis had agreed to meet Mike in a coffee shop a few blocks from the firm. He took a long look at Mike when he arrived at his table, coffee cup in hand, and then stood and wrapped him up in a fierce hug. Mike allowed it to go on for a while before gently extricating himself. They sat down.

“I, uh, was sorry to hear,” Louis began, sounding almost shy, “about you and Rachel. And that you’ve had a rough time lately. How are you doing now?”

Mike wondered exactly what Louis had heard about him. He doubted that Harvey would have shared all of the more salacious details of his spectacular fall from grace, but he could have heard it from other sources, such as Rachel. It made him uncomfortable, but he pushed those concerns aside. He was here for Harvey.

“I’m fine Louis. What I want to know is, what happened yesterday? I got Harvey out of jail last night, but he’s not talking this morning. All I know is, there was an argument and blows were exchanged.”

Louis appeared stunned. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Obviously not. Tell me what?”

“Oh my god, Mike. I tried to stop it, but Robert had the votes, and there was nothing I could do. He even got that little weasel Alex on his side. And then, after the vote went his way, that wasn’t enough for him. He had to rub salt in Harvey’s wounds. If it had been me, I might have taken a swing at him too.”

A sick feeling grew in the pit of Mike’s stomach as he began to suspect what had happened. “Just tell me straight out. What were you voting on?”

Now Louis looked half a second away from bursting into tears. “They voted Harvey out. He’s gone. Out of the firm.”

“No.” It felt as though all the breath left his body at once. “Why would Robert –” He broke off. The answer was obvious. “Someone told Robert I was back in town and staying with Harvey.”

Louis nodded, lips pursed. “Rachel told him.”

“Shit.” Who knew what else she’d told him? “But why go after Harvey? How is any of what happened his fault?”

“Robert blames both of you. Think about it, Mike. I eventually got over the whole fake lawyer thing because Harvey is like a brother to me, and you’re like my nephew.”

“Wait. That would make Harvey my father. I don’t think – ”

“My point is, Robert never got over it. He never understood how you could do that. The most he could do was resign himself to it for Rachel’s sake, and for the sake of reaping the rewards that came from looking the other way. Look at what he got out of it. A new firm he could mold in his image. Or that he could have, if Harvey wasn’t still around, putting his own stamp on things. Even before you came back, they were butting heads almost daily. Think Harvey and Jessica, only without the history and deep loyalty. You were just a convenient excuse for Robert to bring everything to a head.”

“So, what now? How do we get Harvey his name back on the wall?”

“I’m sorry Mike, but it’s too late for that.”

“Oh, come on. You wrote the by-laws. The has to be some loophole you can think of.”

“There’s not, and I’m not so sure Harvey even wants to come back.”

“Of course he does.”

Louis fixed Mike with a rueful gaze. “I’m not even sure I want to still be there.”

“Louis …”

“I mean it. With Jessica and Harvey, we really had something special. I remember what that place was like during the dark days when Hardman was in charge. He had to control every little thing, and I’m afraid Robert is going down that same path. I may have put up with it once, but I’m not prepared to put up with it anymore.”

Mike stared at him in dismay. “Fuck,” he bit out. All the time he’d been sulking and acting like a spoiled child, Harvey had been dealing with this. “What are we going to do? What are you going to do?”

“I’m working on an exit strategy. Sheila is eager to go back to work. I’m thinking about being a stay at home dad for a while.”

“You?” asked Mike, frankly skeptical. “What about Harvey? You two could team up again. Start a new firm. Show Robert he’s just made the biggest mistake of his career.”

The look Louis gave him was both fond and sad. “I’m not who Harvey wants to team up with.”

“Why not? He told me about going to couples’ therapy with you. I thought you’d ironed out all your problems.”

“Yes, and that was amazingr, but the truth is that we’ll never not grate on one another’s nerves.”

“Louis …”

“I meant what I said about taking a break for a while. This past year, with Sheila and the baby, I’ve really gotten my priorities straight. I love being an attorney, but I love my family so much more.”

Mike could see that Louis had made up his mind, so he let it drop. The conversation turned to other things. Louis shared gossip about the people Mike had known at the firm, showed him dozens (and dozens) of baby pictures on his phone, and asked again how Mike was doing, without mentioning any of the issues which might have prevented him from doing okay.

All the while, half of Mike’s thoughts were on Harvey at home, behind that closed door with a bottle of scotch, having had everything of importance to him taken away because of Mike. When Louis announced he was changing memory cards in his phone so that he could show Mike even more pictures of his child, Mike announced that he had to leave.

“It’s been really great catching up, Louis. I hope everything works out for you. I’ve got to get going, though. Thanks for meeting with me.”

Louis hugged him again, made him promise that he’d stop by to see the baby sometime, and then watched, eyes damp, as Mike left the coffee shop.

 

******

 

Mike stood just inside the front door of the condo, listening. He heard nothing, no indication that Harvey was awake, or even still there.

Crossing the living room, he moved down the short hallway to the closed door of Harvey’s bedroom and touched it with one hand. His other hand closed around the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it yet. Instead, he pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear.

Still nothing.

Using only his fingertips, he tapped lightly on the door. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard faint sounds on the other side of the door, like the soft creak of a mattress, or the rustle of bedclothes.

“Harvey?” he asked, mouth nearly touching the door.

No reply.

Drawing in a deep breath and holding it, he turned the knob and eased the door open. The light was off and the blinds were closed. He could just make out what he assumed was Harvey’s form in the bed, covered all the way up to the top of his ears. An empty bottle stood on the nightstand, next to a glass containing perhaps a quarter inch of scotch.

It had been just over four hours since Harvey had carried the full bottle to the bedroom. Mike winced. Harvey could hold his liquor, but that was excessive, even for him. He debated what to do. Let him sleep it off? Hide the rest of the alcohol? The first thing he should do, he decided, was to make sure that Harvey was still breathing.

He turned on the overhead light, which had no discernible effect on the man passed out in the bed. Then he crossed the room and stood at the head of the bed. Carefully, he peeled back the covers, exposing Harvey down to his shoulders. He’d shed his jacket and tie, but still wore the white shirt he’d been wearing when Mike sprung him from jail.

Mike perched on the edge of the bed. With a light touch, he laid two fingers on the side of Harvey’s neck, searching for a pulse. Harvey let out an inelegant snort and thrashed underneath the covers for perhaps three seconds before settling back down. Mike moved his hand to Harvey’s shoulder and gave it a shake.

“Harvey?”

A long exhalation, followed by, “Mmph.”

Mike debated with himself whether he should rouse Harvey or let him sleep. He wanted some answers, and he wanted to talk to Harvey, ensure he was okay, make plans. He looked again at the empty bottle and decided that Harvey needed to sleep it off more than he needed an interrogation. Grabbing bottle and glass, he exited the room, but left the door open so he could hear if Harvey threw up in his sleep or experienced any difficulty breathing.

Back in the living room, he paced, sat and researched hangover remedies on the internet, composed a scathing email to Robert Zane and deleted it, and finally, realizing that he’d been awake for over twenty-four hours, he stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. He was still keyed up, and it seemed to take forever, but finally he slept. Just before he dozed off, it occurred to him that he hadn’t thought about getting high since he got the call from jail.

 

******

 

Mike woke to the sound of the shower running. It was dark outside. A glance at his phone told him it was after eight. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten all day. Neither had Harvey, as far as he knew, unless you included his liquid breakfast.

Using his phone, Mike placed a quick order for burgers and fries, and then sat up and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long again. He’d need to get it cut before he started going on job interviews.

“Huh,” he said out loud.

That was the first time he’d acknowledged to himself that he wanted to find work, and that he was ready to begin. As he took stock of himself, he realized that something had settled inside him since yesterday. As he thought some more, he connected this newfound calm with worry for Harvey, and the forcible reminder that he, Mike, was not the center of the universe.

As he absorbed this revelation, he heard Harvey leave the bathroom and return to his bedroom. A few minutes later, he emerged wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking a little rough around the edges, but not nearly as rough as Mike would have in similar circumstances.

Harvey grunted when he saw Mike, and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. Mike followed, standing on the other side of the counter to watch him drink.

“I ordered burgers for dinner.”

Another grunt from Harvey.

“How are you not vomiting your internal organs out and praying for death?”

Harvey turned to give him a disdainful glare. He started to say something, perhaps to claim that he’d not had that much to drink, but then his eyes narrowed. “The bottle was gone. You were in my bedroom.”

Mike couldn’t tell from his inflection if he was angry, intrigued, or something else.

“I went out today,” Mike said.

“Good for you.” For the first time since Mike had returned to New York, Harvey sounded as if he couldn’t have cared less what Mike had done with his day.

Well, he couldn’t really blame him for that.

Mike sucked in a breath and tried again. “I talked to Louis.”

This brought a spark of wary interest to Harvey’s eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“He told me what happened.”

Scowling, Harvey turned his back on Mike. “So. Now you know.”

Mike wanted to reach out, wanted to place a hand on Harvey’s back in a gesture of comfort, but the vibes coming off of Harvey seemed to warn him to keep his distance.

“I’m sorry, Harvey.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I can’t help but feel that if not for me … if not for me staying here with you after what happened with Rachel …”

Harvey sighed wearily. “This wasn’t about you. Not really. Not everything is about you.”

Even though Mike had been telling himself the same thing, this stung. He hadn’t been trying to make it about himself, and said as much to Harvey. “I just want to help. Maybe if I were to speak to Robert.”

“That’s not going to help anything. He’d probably take your head off.” He gave a bitter sounding laugh. “Or get Sam to do it for him.” Harvey turned around to face Mike. “It’s done, and it can’t be undone.” He held up a hand. “And before you give me the standard pep talk – which I taught you, by the way – I need you to understand that I won’t be fighting this. I’m tired of fighting, tired of trying to hold the firm together. It’s Robert’s firm now, and maybe he’ll make a success of it, and maybe he’ll go down in flames, but from now on, that’s his problem, not mine.”

A dozen replies, mostly arguments, went through Mike’s head. He could tell that Harvey was serious, though. After all the support Harvey had given him, the least he could do was return the favor. He nodded slowly while he tried to wrap his head around this new reality.

“So,” he finally said, “what are you going to do now?”

The buzzer sounded.

“Now,” said Harvey, “I’m going to eat my burger, maybe throw up a little, and go back to sleep. How about you? What are you going to do?”

“The same, except for the throwing up part. But what about tomorrow?”

“We’ll figure that out when tomorrow gets here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Now that Harvey had been voted out of the firm, there were two unemployed lawyers moping around his condo, sleeping late and watching too much television.

Every time Harvey thought about planning his future, his brain shied away, and his resolve vanished. He began to empathize with Mike and his complaints that he was paralyzed and couldn’t see a way forward.

Except Harvey could see plenty of ways forward. He could find another law firm that needed a powerhouse like him. He could go the in-house counsel route for a former client, or do a little research to find which companies were in the market for one. He could become a sole practitioner and chase after the big cases.

He could even give up law altogether and switch careers. He had options. The problem was, he had no desire to explore any of them.

The lack of drive and ambition would pass, he assumed, after he’d gone through the grieving process. It was tempting to drink his way through that process, but having a recovering addict living with him made that a dicey choice. As it was, whenever he poured himself a drink, he saw Mike’s face take on a nervous, apologetic look, and the drink’s promise of relaxation and temporary oblivion didn’t justify putting that expression there.

In some ways, their roles had reversed. Now Mike was the one trying to draw Harvey out, to quiz him about his future plans, and to assure him that everything would be okay. Unlike Mike, Harvey didn’t lash out. Maybe that would come later, after the numbness had worn off.

Their situations weren’t precisely analogous. As out of control as Mike had been before he landed in rehab, he’d gotten there as a direct result of his own choices. That could explain the anger that was always simmering just underneath the surface. As for himself, Harvey figured it would be a long time before he forgave Robert, but if he’d torpedoed his own life in the way that Mike had, he might have held onto his anger forever.

As it was, he seemed to have blown through the worst of it during the altercation following the vote. He knew that violence wasn’t the answer to life’s problems, but it did break things down to their most basic, visceral level. Now, instead of sitting around the living room constructing elaborate revenge plots, he could recall the satisfying crunch of fist against jaw and feel as if a certain amount of balance had been restored to the universe.

 

******

 

On the one-week anniversary of his unemployment, he and Mike were seated side by side on the couch. Harvey was enjoying his first cup of coffee of the day at just before one in the afternoon. Mike had gotten up earlier to work out. Some superhero movie was playing on Netflix, but for once, Harvey found no enjoyment in it. For maybe the hundredth time, he was replaying the partner vote in his mind, focusing today on the punishing kick from Sam that had nearly broken his nose, and wondering idly if he was too old to take up kickboxing.

Mike paused the movie. “Ross and Specter,” he announced, voice vibrating with excitement.

“What?” asked Harvey, pulled from his reverie.

“Or Specter and Ross if you insist on being an ass about it.”

Harvey sipped his coffee and stared at Mike. “No,” he said.

“What do you mean, no? You’ve been trying to strongarm me into working with you again ever since I got back.”

“First of all, I did not ‘strongarm’ you.” He made air quotes as he said this.

“And second of all?”

He drank some more coffee. “I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t wanna anymore.”

Mike let out a soft guffaw. “Don’t wanna? Have you been reverse aging since they voted you off the island?”

“Maybe I have.” Harvey turned his head to find Mike examining him closely. “And maybe,” he continued, “I like not having any responsibilities. Judging by your behavior, you must like it as well. Being home all day with you has been quite the eye opener. I haven’t seen even the slightest effort from you to get off the couch and find a job.”

Mike scowled. “I got several alerts from Monster-dot-com just this morning. Plus, I check Craigslist at least twice a day.”

“Oh. Craigslist. Well, I’m sure you’ll land something with a multi-level marketing company any day now.”

“Ha. Shows what you know. They have all kinds of listings.”

“Such as?”

“Such as delivery driver.”

“Do you even have a license?”

“Caregiver.”

“That’s a lot of work for minimum wage.”

“Field Representative. Team Lead. A/P Clerk.”

“Do you even know what any of those things are?”

“Hey, I faked being a lawyer. How difficult could any of those other jobs be to fake?”

“Nice to see you’ve learned from your past mistakes.”

“My point, Harvey, is that it’s a big world out there. If you think you’re too good to team up with me, there’s plenty other things I can do. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I never said I was too good to team up with you.”

“But?”

“But I haven’t made any decisions about my future yet. I haven’t even decided to make a decision.”

“Wow. Robert and the rest of them really did a number on you. You know what, Harvey? I hardly recognize you anymore. You’re really letting yourself go. You sit around in your pajamas all day. You aren’t going on your daily runs. You haven’t shaved for a week. Your hair … I don’t even know what to say about that. I mean, we both expect this type of behavior from me, but this is totally out of character for you.”

Harvey listened to Mike as he spoke, watched his mouth open and close, his teeth and tongue appear and disappear as he worked himself up into what promised to be an epic rant. His eyes shone with emotion and one finger jabbed the air for emphasis every few words. How many times, Harvey wondered, had he been witness to one of Mike’s impassioned pleas, misplaced or otherwise? He was years away from the reckless kid he’d once been, but one thing hadn’t changed. He still wore his heart on his sleeve, still led with his emotions.

Mike continued to talk, but Harvey no longer heard the words. He focused instead on the angle of Mike’s jaw, the faint wash of pink over his cheekbones, the tendon in his neck the begged to be teased and licked. His gaze trailed back to Mike’s mouth, which had finally stilled, and then up to his eyes, which were fixed on Harvey, a quizzical look in them.

“Are you even listening to me?” asked Mike.

“No,” Harvey whispered, and grabbed Mike behind the neck to kiss him. He told himself he only intended to shut Mike up, but the kiss ignited and, in an instant, he couldn’t remember anything but how good it felt.

For a split-second, Mike went stiff with resistance, but then he made a low noise in the back of his throat and grabbed fistfuls of Harvey’s t-shirt. Harvey pressed him backwards, down onto the couch, and lay on top of him, rubbing against him, tonguing into his mouth, allowing eight years of yearning the free reign it would no longer be denied.

When Mike broke the kiss, Harvey dazedly wondered if he’d made a mistake.

But, “Condoms,” Mike gasped. “L-lube.”

Harvey was achingly hard by then. It took every bit of willpower he possessed to lift himself off Mike. He stumbled as he stood up. Then Mike lost his balance and nearly fell when Harvey yanked him to his feet, and it was clear to Harvey that they weren’t going to make it to the bedroom. Harvey sat back on the couch, pulling Mike down on top of him. They fumbled with their clothing as Harvey repositioned them so Mike lay underneath him. With pants bunched around their knees, he held both of their cocks together in his hands and jacked them off.

As they both humped into the circle of Harvey’s hands, their mouths met again and they kissed hungrily, advancing and retreating as they fought to see who could get their tongue the farthest down the others’ throat.

Mike pulled his mouth away first, clutching Harvey’s shoulders and staring helplessly into his face as Harvey stroked them to completion. Mike’s back began to bow, and Harvey knew he was close. They were both close.

“We could have had this,” Harvey gasped, stroking faster. “Years ago.”

In answer, Mike covered Harvey’s mouth with his own once more and they both erupted, seconds apart, sharing breaths and muffled exclamations as they spilled hotly into the space between them.

 

******

 

They made it to the bed for round two.

Buried inside Mike, Harvey thrust into him at a leisurely pace, cataloging every minute change of expression. He moved slower, faster, slower, adjusting his angle in response to what he read on Mike’s face.

He paused to lick slowly up the side of Mike’s neck, tasting the tendon he’d examined earlier, and then detoured to the shell of his ear, dampening it with his tongue, making Mike wriggle beneath him and clutch his shoulders more tightly, fingertips pressing into his flesh.

Harvey sat back on his heels and cupped Mike’s ass with his hands, fucking into him more forcefully now. Mike’s arms stretched over his head to grasp the headboard. The muscles and tendons in his arms stood out, begging to be licked. Later, Harvey promised himself. For now, he had established a strong rhythm and he had a goal. His hips snapped, forward and back. Mike gasped and groaned, eyes rolling back in his head before shutting completely.

“Get yourself off,” Harvey panted, and Mike did, unpeeling one hand from the headboard and moving it to his beautifully erect cock, jacking himself as Harvey chased both his own pleasure and Mike’s, watching for the signs, the quickening breaths, arch of the back, legs tightening and feet flexing, and then he began hitting the target he’d located earlier, and hitting it again and again until Mike shouted wildly and came hard, feet pointed like a dancer’s.

Harvey followed moments later, pressing his chest to Mike’s and wrapping his arms around him as they shook and shook and pulled every last ounce of pleasure from one another’s bodies.

 

******

 

Their heartrates had nearly returned to normal, and the sweat had dried from their bodies. Mike lay with his head on Harvey’s chest, legs tangling with Harvey’s.

“Wow,” he said again, and felt more than heard Harvey’s answering grunt of agreement. “I mean, we’re going to do that again, right? And keep doing that?”

“We’d be idiots not to,” said Harvey, tracing abstract patterns across Mike’s back and shoulders. “What do you think, Mike. Are we idiots?”

Maybe Harvey meant it humorously, but something in his voice caused Mike to lift his head to study his face. “I think,” he replied, choosing his words carefully, “that we have been idiots, but we don’t have to be. Not anymore.”

Harvey let out a soft chuckle. “The first step is admitting we have a problem?”

“It usually is.”

They lay in silence for long minutes, a silence broken only by their synchronized breaths and the soft, light sounds Harvey fingers made as they dragged across Mike’s skin.

“I may have been too hasty,” Harvey finally said, as if he’d been deep in thought.

That didn’t sound promising. Was he about to say that all of this was a mistake? Deflecting, Mike tried to make a joke of it. “Nah. Your stamina was fine, for an old guy.” He was rewarded with a sharp slap on his ass. “Ooh. Do it again.”

“Just listen, because you won’t hear me say this very often, but I think I was wrong, and you were right.”

Mike lifted his head to stare at Harvey, raising one eyebrow.

“Specter and Ross,” said Harvey.

Surprise and sudden hope had Mike’s heart flipping over in his chest.

“No,” said Harvey, drawing out the word, “that’s not it. Ross and Specter sounds better.”

“It doesn’t really,” Mike objected. “Hearing them both out loud, Specter and Ross is absolutely the better choice.”

Harvey smiled at him. “The name will be the easiest choice we make. A coin flip will suffice, if necessary. After we have that squared away, we’ll have to come to some sort of agreement as to what sort of cases we’d take.”

Mike pretended to think it over. “I’ll tell you what. If my name goes last, I get to pick the cases. If my name goes first, you pick.”

Harvey’s smile widened. “Ross and Specter it is.”

 

**One Year Later**

 

Harvey got back from his meeting with McKernan Motors’ new CEO, eager to share the news that they’d poached their twelfth big client from Zane et al in as many months, only to find Mike’s office empty. This had been a much too common occurrence lately. In the past week, Mike had been missing more often than not. When he was there, his manner was distant and secretive. Harvey had done his best not to be concerned, not to read anything into it, but all at once it seemed too much. What if Mike had slipped back into old, bad habits?

He approached Sunny’s desk, located in the hallway between the two partner offices, and she barely looked up from her computer screen to say, “He hasn’t come back from lunch.”

Harvey glanced at his watch. Three o’clock.

“What time did he leave?”

“Noon.”

“Does he have any meetings scheduled for the afternoon?”

“None that I know of.”

It had been months since Harvey had experienced so much as a twinge of unease over Mike’s addiction. They were full partners, in every way imaginable, and Mike wasn’t required to check in with him every second of his day. Still, Harvey couldn’t stop the worry that filled him at the sight of Mike’s empty chair and dark computer screen.

He might have quizzed Sunny further, but he knew she’d already told him everything she could. As he’d learned over the past year, she was part mind reader, part magician, part therapist.

They’d hired her right after they signed the lease for half a floor in the restored, historical brick building. After enduring close to a dozen interviews which had ranged from depressing to hilarious, Sunny Flores had marched through the door of the interview room and announced, “You can stop looking fellas, because I’m all you’re ever gonna need.”

She sounded so sure of herself that they believed her, and as it turned out, she was telling the truth. As they got the firm up and running, she multi-tasked as officer manager, bookkeeper, paralegal and legal secretary without ever seeming to break a sweat. She was Donna and Amy and Gretchen all rolled up into one beautiful, foul-mouthed genius who typed a gazillion words per minute and could drink Harvey under the table without even breaking a sweat.

Now, she finally gave him her full attention, swiveling her chair to face him. “You don’t have to worry about him, Mr. S. He showed me his one-year chip a couple of weeks ago, and he was so fucking proud of it. He’s not going to do anything bad.”

Harvey knew that. Of course he did. He nodded at Sunny, and gave her a smile that was half-apologetic, and half-embarrassed. “I’ll be in my office,” was all he said.

By four-thirty, Mike was still missing. Harvey had tried calling him, sent a dozen texts, and was about ready to start checking hospitals and police stations when Mike finally texted a reply.

_“Sorry. I’m at home. Come as soon as you can.”_

“Well, that tells me absolutely nothing,” he muttered, trying to tamp down a fresh surge of panic.

“Your schedule is clear for the rest of the day,” Sunny called, prescient as ever.

“Can you lock up?”

“Go,” she ordered, and he went.

 

******

 

The living room and kitchen were dark when Harvey arrived. “Mike?” he called out but got no answer. Mike’s shoes were on the rack by the front door, his briefcase leaned against the side of the couch, and a thin stack of mail sat on the kitchen counter.

Harvey moved farther into the apartment. The bedroom door, which always stood open was shut. He froze, every nightmarish scenario he had ever imagined playing through his head. Mike pale and cold, a needle stuck in his arm. Or Mike packing his suitcase, taking off once again for parts unknown.

Harvey gave his head a sharp shake. The latter made no sense. Mike had asked him to come home. The former, then. Mike had finally succumbed to his cravings, and whether he was alive or dead behind the door, it was over. Everything was over. Except, alive was better. Alive was the only option Harvey would permit, regardless of what happened later.

Rushing forward, he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open with such force it banged against the wall. The lights were off, but tiny flames burned on every surface around the room, flickering and casting a golden glow over the pale, naked body on the bed.

Mike wasn’t high, and he wasn’t dying. He was smiling and laughing softly at Harvey’s violent entrance.

“Mike? I thought …” He didn’t complete the sentence. God, he was an idiot. After all this time, how could he not fully trust Mike? “What is this?”

“I could hardly be more obvious.” Mike shifted, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. “Judging by your reaction, I’d say you forgot.”

“Forgot? Forgot what?”

“It’s our one-year anniversary.”

“We’ve known each other for nine … oh.” One year since the first time they’d fucked.

“Yeah. Oh.”

Harvey stood in the doorway a few seconds longer, struggling to shake off his dark mood. He walked closer, removing his jacket and loosening his tie. He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Mike’s bare leg. “I was worried when I couldn’t find you today. Were you here the whole time?”

“I had a couple of errands to run.” Mike peered at him through the flickering candlelight. “What’s wrong? Harvey, it was only a couple of hours.”

“More like four.”

Mike sighed. “When are you going to start trusting me again?”

“I trust you. I just … I couldn’t bear it if you ever went missing like you did before.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

Harvey grunted, not quite ready to forgive Mike for scaring him. He curled on the bed next to Mike and laid his head on his stomach. “I love you so much,” he murmured into Mike’s skin, and shut his eyes when he felt Mike’s hand on his head, stroking his hair.

“You know,” said Mike, humor threading his voice, “I had a whole thing planned. You’re kind of killing the mood.”

Harvey opened his mouth and bit Mike’s hip lightly. “What thing?”

“Well, for starters, me, here, naked.”

“Always a good start.” He wrapped one arm around Mike’s thigh.

“Then a fancy dinner, which I have warming in the oven.”

“You cooked for me?”

“I bought it and brought it home for you.”

Harvey chuckled. “That was the thing?”

“There are flowers. Chocolate.”

“How traditional of you.”

“Do you approve?”

“Of traditional? Sure.”

Mike’s smile widened. “I’m glad to hear that.” He reached under the pillow for something, but held it behind his back, out of sight.

“Whatcha got there?” asked Harvey, raising his head.

“I should probably be on my knees for this.”

Harvey was momentarily speechless, a lump forming in his throat. “Mike,” he managed to choke out as he sat up.

Mike cleared his throat. “I had this big speech rehearsed, but it’s the damnedest thing. I can’t remember a word of it.”

“You could paraphrase,” Harvey said huskily.

Still keeping one hand behind his back, Mike used the other one to grasp Harvey’s hand. “Okay. Here goes. I love you for a thousand reasons. You gave me the life I’d always wanted. You saved me, so many times I’ve lost count. But the main reason I love you is because you’re you. You’re Harvey Specter, and you’re perfect.”

“I’m not –”

“Shut up. I wasn’t finished. You’re perfect to me. Perfect _for_ me. I don’t want anyone else for the rest of me life.” He produced the small jewelry box he’d been holding behind his back. “I sure hope you feel the same way, because this is me, naked in every way, asking you if you’ll marry me.” Mike opened the box to reveal two matching platinum rings. “Will you?”

“That was you paraphrasing?” asked Harvey, trying to act casual as he swiped at his damp eyes with one knuckle. “Lucky for me you forgot the actual speech, or I might be deceased right now.”

“Harvey …”

“Yes. I will.” He let out a soft huff of laughter. “Even though I’m a little annoyed at you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell where I was going.”

“Not about that. I’m annoyed that you beat me to it.”

Harvey bent down to retrieve his suit jacket, reached into a pocket and pulled out a box nearly identical to the one Mike held. With a rueful smile, he opened the box. “I went for white gold, but these look remarkably similar to yours.”

He held the box next to Mike’s, and they both stared down at the four wedding rings.

Mike’s mouth twisted into a bemused smile. “When were you planning to ask me?”

“This weekend. With dinner, and flowers and chocolate.”

“And nudity?”

“Eventually. If things had progressed satisfactorily.”

“What are we going to do with four rings?”

Harvey thought for a few seconds. “I’ll wear yours, you wear mine, and we’ll repurpose the other two.”

“Something involving piercings and genitalia?” asked Mike with a wicked leer.

“I was thinking more along the lines of pendants or cufflinks, but hey, you do you.”

Mike leered harder. “Right now, I’d rather do you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.” Mike reached for Harvey’s tie. “But first, we have to get you out of those clothes.”

 

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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